The Sum of Our Parts
by Meiza
Summary: Human friends of the Autobots have been turning up missing or dead. Several months later, new Decepticons have been appearing with disturbingly familiar personalities... mild slash
1. The Lost

Ah-hem.

As of 3:45 EST yesterday, I, Meiza, completed my last class of my last semester of school. As of this moment, I am a University Graduate with a Major in English and Minor in Business.

I. AM. DONE!

I'm still having trouble believing it. ^_^

In celebration, I'm updating one story (Elita One, 28 Times) and starting another, the little bit you see right here, inspired by a plot bunny I found on the bunny farm (which will be posted after another chapter or two, to avoid spoilers).

The story takes place nine years after the events of 'B.O.T'. Other details will be made clear as the story progresses.

Read, enjoy, review, and let me know what you think!

* * *

Ch. 1 – "The Lost"

~ 1994 ~

"_And now we go live to Cindy with a startling new development regarding the recent surge of missing persons. Cindy, what's going on where you are?"_

"_Bob, I'm standing outside the apartment complex where a musician named Gregory White had been living for the last three years, and who is now confirmed missing as of this morning. Police are combing through his apartment now, but so far not much has been found. This will be the third unexplained disappearance in the last month. Police believe that the same culprit for all three disappearances might be the same group or person, though no demands have been made yet."_

"_Have there been any leads as to why these people might have been taken?"_

"_No one knows yet why these three persons were chosen, Bob. They share no acquaintances, no social groups, jobs, or backgrounds, nothing that would connect all three of them together. The first victim, Michael Charles, age 42, is an African American biology teacher who worked at the local high school. The second victim was Charlene Watson, age 31, Caucasian woman and a long time social worker in the city. Now it's White, a 29 year Caucasian male who worked at several night clubs and lived paycheck to paycheck. The only commonalities between these three persons are the odd and disturbing circumstances of their disappearances. Their associates and friends have reported they had all been in good health, not fearful or secretive, and no more stressed than usual. Yet in the morning they would all be missing without a trace, with no signs of a struggle, no notes, no demands, and in the case of Watson, no signs she had even spent the night in her apartment even though her landlord had seen her going up the stairs."_

"_Alright then, thanks Cindy. If you have any information about any of the missing persons, please call the number at the bottom of the screen. Police are combing through all the evidence and testimonies, but they need your help too._

"_Walmart employees are staging a sit in, demanding a better working environment after their managers locked them in for the night-"_

Optimus Prime clicked off the screen.

The news caster was right. Michael, Charlene, and Gregory didn't have anything in common with each other. Even their personalities were too different; overall friendly, but too different to be really compatible with each other. Put them in a room together and they'd run out of steam within the first five minutes, and not for lack of trying.

But the news caster was wrong, too. There was one thing they all shared.

Blaster went to Gregory the occasional weekend to check out the smaller music venues and free concerts and events in the city, nearly all of which the human knew by heart. Jazz absolutely loved having someone being able to show him the less mainstream shows, and considered the human a good friend.

Perceptor had bumped into Michael in the city library once, and had been absolutely captivated by his take on biology and the workings of nature, along with his incredible patience and ability to keep up with the microscopes loquacious and verbose ramblings. They kept up a casual friendship and correspondence for the last few months.

Groove met Charlene after he and his team were called in to help evacuate a burning building. The motorcycle had pulled out a pair of kids and tried to find their mother, only to find out that she had abandoned them several weeks earlier. Charlene had been the one to handle the children's case, and kept Groove updated on their status and what was happening until they found a good foster home for them. They had remained in touch as friends ever since.

Now all three of them were missing, and no one knew how or why.

The worst part was that no one realized the pattern until now. Optimus knew about Gregory because Blaster liked sharing the music from his friends band with _everyone_. He didn't know about Charlene until Groove came to him asking for a few days off just yesterday so he could devote all his time into the search, and he didn't know about Michael until he noticed how jittery Perceptor had been of late and he confronted him about it just two days ago.

They couldn't discount the possibility of Decepticon involvement, but they had been quiet as of late, and none of the humans could offer anything to Megatron by themselves. If Megatron was going to be using them as leverage or hostages, he would have done something by now – it had been nearly a month since Michael went missing, and Megatron wasn't particularly patient.

Still, whatever the ultimate source, precautions had to be taken to protect any and all humans with Autobot associations.

"Bumblebee?" Optimus called over his com link.

"_Yes Optimus?"_ the yellow spy responded.

"Where are the Witwicky's right now?"

"_The Witwicky's? Carly's helping Hoist design the human sector of Autobot City, and she's got Daniel with her. Spike and Sparkplug are with Wheeljack. Do you need them?"_

"There's been another disappearance; Jazz's friend, Gregory."

Silence on the other end.

"The next time you see them, tell the Witwicky's that none of them are to be outside Autobot City or the Ark without an escort. Whoever has been taking these people, chances are they're going to target our most constant and visible allies sooner or later."

"_What about Chip?"_

"He's still in Connecticut visiting family. He's not due back for another couple of days, but I don't think we should wait that long. We might have to have him stay here in the City until we're sure it's safe again. At this moment, we have to assume that all our human allies and associates are in danger. We can't uproot them all and hide them in the City, so I am going to leave it to each mech to do what he thinks is necessary to protect whatever humans he associates with, within reason. I'll be sending out the order, but start spreading the word."

"_Yes Prime."_

oOoOoOo

Over in Connecticut, in the expansive backyard of a good sized white country house, the now 25 year old Chip Chase was surrounded by half a dozen little cousins, nieces and nephews age three to seven, telling them a story of one of his adventures with the Autobots with the sweeping gestures and animated voice of a master storyteller.

"But then the sky grew dark, and before we knew it, it was raining something dark and acrid, nothing like the rainwater on earth. It was as storm of acid rain, created by the Seeker trine called the Rainmakers, and it was sapping the Autobots of their strength until they could barely stand!" Chip explained, curling into himself like the collapsed Ironhide of his tale.

The little audience gasped and leaned in closer, eyes wide and fearful for the fate of the Autobots they heard so much about.

"What did you do?" seven year old Ellie asked in a whisper, as if she hadn't heard this particular story at least a dozen times before. Chip tried not to grin.

"Because I was human, I was the only one not affected by the poisonous rain, but I couldn't leave my friends behind. So I told them-"

"Chey chey!"

'Chey chey' abruptly cut himself off and turned nearly all the way around in his wheelchair to look at the tiny speaker.

"It's rude to interrupt Katelyn," Chip reprimanded his niece. "You have to wait until…"

He trailed off when he saw what was in the four year olds hands – the cordless phone from his sister's kitchen. "Is that a phone call for me?"

"Yeah huh, I answered the phone, 'cause I gots it first, I got it and said "hello, who's this" like Mommy said to, because I should always ask, and he said "Pow," and I don't know Pow, but he said he something, I don't remember what he said, and I told him I'm Katelyn and I like to sing and asked if he wanted to hear a song, but he said no, he wanted to talk to Chey chey, except he didn't say Chey Chey, so I didn't know, so I asked Mommy and she told me he wanted to talk to Chey Chey, except Chey Chey was talking and I shouldn't int-a-upt, and I said "Pow I can't int-a-upt" but he said it's okay it's really really important please for the love of Primus give Chey Chey the slagging phone, that's what he said. So here."

Katelyn dropped the phone on Chips lap and skipped away.

Chip blinked.

'_Note to self,'_ he thought, not for the first time,_ 'Never ever leave Katelyn alone in a room with Bluestreak.'_

Loquacious four year olds aside, if Katelyn meant what he thought she did by "Pow", then something pretty serious must have happened for Prowl to be calling him way out here, something stressful if it's enough to make the infamously patient police car actually swear a little.

'_Another note to self: talk to Prowl about using Cybertronian swear words around impressionable little kids, even if most of them don't know what they mean.'_

To his waiting audience Chip said, "Sorry everyone, I've really got to take this call right now. I promise I'll finish the story later, okay?"

The entire audience loudly groaned and protested, and even the adults lingering at the fringes pretending they weren't listening looked disappointed.

Chip wheeled away back towards the house for a bit of privacy before putting the phone to his ear. "Prowl?"

"…Chip? Chip Chase?"

"Speaking?"

"Not Charles, or Jimmy, or Elliot?"

"Uh, no?"

"…Thank you Primus."

Chip didn't know if he wanted to laugh or feel sorry for Prowl. Either way, he still had a sense of sympathy towards the logic driven tactician for having to try and talk to the nonsensical four year old with all the attention span of the goldfish.

"Has something happened?" Chip asked.

"There's been another disappearance." Prowl answered without preamble. "Optimus has issued that all Autobot associates are to be put on watch and protected. Considering how much you personally have done for us, you're especially at risk."

Chip felt his heart stop. He glanced over at is cousins, his older brothers and sisters, their kids, his parents and grandmother, milling around the lawn with snacks and soda's, the youngest ones running around the talking adults as they laughed and yelled creative insults with no bite.

"How serious are we talking?" he asked hoarsely.

"We have no reason to believe your family is in any danger." Prowl said. "But we would rather have you return as soon as possible."

Chip checked his watch. "I could probably be back as soon as late afternoon today, if I can find a flight with seats left."

"Good. Let me know as soon as you have the details of your flight and arrival time. I'll be picking you up from the airport, and we'll be returning directly to Metroplex. Until then, do not go anywhere alone, and stick to crowds and public places. Whoever is behind the kidnappings has been taking the utmost care to avoid witnesses."

"So we're not sure it's the Decepticons?"

"They remain the strongest probability, but we can't disregard the possibility of another enemy, such as one of the Anti-Autobot groups."

"You really know how to make my day Prowl, you know that?"

"I wasn't aware that was my purpose in life," the 2iC answered blandly. Chip honestly couldn't say if he was joking or not.

"Yeah, sure. I'll call you back later then."

Chip cut the connection and let the cordless fall back to his lap. He leaned back and let his head fall over his shoulders. Well, at least managed a full two days of vacation.

"Hey, Beverly? Mind if I used your computer?"

oOoOoOo

In a high office building in New York City, the 31 year old CEO of Hybrid Technologies was pouring over the financial forecast for the company. They were one of the few companies fortunate enough to be in a business partnership with the Autobots, receiving certain technologies to improve existing products, in exchange for royalties that were paying for over a third of the construction costs for Autobot City and Metroplex, more than any other company with similar agreements. The partnership had been good for them both, but the woman behind the deal was a bit concerned that too much of the profit margin was being spent on frivolous –

The phone rang loudly in the quiet office, and she distractedly reached for the one on her desk before realizing that the ringing was actually coming from her cell phone in her purse, by her feet.

Frowning in puzzlement, she pulled the item out. Puzzlement turned into surprise when she saw the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"_Astoria, where are you right now?"_

"Powerglide?"

"_No, the other red Autobot plane. Yes, me! Where are you __right__now__?"_

"I'm in my office," she told him, quirking an eyebrow at the odd question. "You know, the same place I usually am five days a week in the early afternoon. Why?"

"_Nothing. Just, you know, wanted to check up on you."_

The brunette quirked a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Powerglide, sweetie, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, I AM a business woman, and after what I had to go through to get real power back when I got sick of just being a figurehead, I like to think I'm a pretty good one nowadays. So I _can_ recognize total bull when I hear it."

The plane made a sound best described as a verbal cringe, and Astoria couldn't help but smile a little as she mentally awarded herself a point. After nearly nine years, Astoria could proudly say she knew her little plane almost as well as he knew himself. Not the extent of his millions of year's long existence – goodness no, no human would be able to comprehend the intricacies of such a long singular existence – but his personality and habits had become so easy for her to map out and predict at this point. Goodness, in personality he was still the same daredevil but secretly sweet 'bot she first met back when she was still a spoiled heiress of 22.

The exact same bot…

"So what is this really about?"Astoria asked, absently twirling the twisted phone cord on her finger.

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Astoria's finger slowly stopped twirling. A sinking feeling rose in her stomach that whatever Powerglide told her next, she was NOT going to like it, and the longer he took to summon the nerve to say anything, the more she was going to not-like it.

"_Okay, here's the deal: you know those 'mysterious disappearances' on the news? We just figured out that they were all friends with at least one Autobot. You're VERY good friends with an Autobot. You can do the math."_

"You're right, I can. But Powerglide, those people were waaay over there by where you guys are, and I'm waaay over here in New York. And frankly, I'm a bit too high profile for an easy kidnapping. And before you ask, no, I haven't seen anyone or experienced anything suspicious, disturbing, alarming, or weird. It's been pretty routine around here."

"_You can't be sure,"_ Powerglide insisted. _"The others just up and disappeared without a trace. Literally! Optimus is basically saying that pretty much any human we meet regularly might be in danger, and you're fragging dating one!"_

'On and off, and off for nearly six months, what with my company and you keeping busy with the City's construction,' Astoria nearly pointed out, but bit her tongue. This wasn't the time to bring back a conversation they've already had many times before.

"_Look, can you just do me a favor and just be careful?" _Powerglide insisted._ "Don't go anywhere alone and always make sure someone knows where you are, and that your phone is on and charged and the tracking system is working so we can find you in case something happens, and start carrying around a stunner if you've got one."_

"I'll be careful Powerglide," she promised. "Just try and calm down, okay? I'm not going to do anything to put myself needlessly in danger."

"_I'm sorry, I thought I was talking to Astoria. Could you put her back on the phone please?"_

"Hardy har har. You crack me up."

"_You love me anyway. See you later then."_

"Looking forward to it." She said back in a little flirty voice by way of good bye, a little tradition of theirs, before she hung up.

Two minutes later, the phone rang again.

"_On second thoughts, just stay where you are. I'll come by in a couple of hours."_

"Way to keep calm, Powerglide." Astoria commented dryly. "I suppose me telling you it's not necessary would be a total waste of time and energy on my part, wouldn't it?"

"_Most likely."_

"Alright, fine. I should be done by five thirty, and you can escort me home. Meet you on the roof then?"

"_Five thirty on the dot. At five thirty one I'm assuming the worst and coming in after you."_

Astoria glanced at the wall to wall window of her large office that gave her a fantastic view of the city at sunset, and which also provided plenty of room for a determined plane to crash through if he was so inclined.

"I'll keep that in mind," she promised.

"_Also, close all your blinds, and lock your door. Wait, don't lock it, you might need a quick escape. Do you have a fire escape, or a secret exit, or something? Actually, how about you call it a day right and I pick you up as soon as I get there?"_

"Powerglide, calm down," Astoria said. "I'll close the blinds, but if the Decepticons were going to come after me – assuming this is even them at all – they would have done it by now. This might sound bad, but they'd have a lot more to gain from me personally than from Michael, Charlene, or Greg. I'm not going to let this arrest my life and force me to put everything on hold. I won't let fear win like that. I have work to finish, so I'll meet you on the roof at five thirty like we agreed, alright? Don't worry, I promise not to disappear between now and then.

"_Don't joke like that, Astoria,"_ Powerglide said softly, seriously.

Astoria's little smile faded. She sat up and leaned against her desk as her whole demeanor become more serious, more empathetic, and more sincere to reflect the words she was about to say and totally, utterly mean.

"Hey, Glide? Listen to me, okay?" she said gently. "I know the disappearances are scaring you. I'm sorry for acting so flippant. I _am_ taking the danger seriously, and I won't leave before you get here. I'm not going to let myself become a victim, and I trust you to do what you think is best and safest for me.

"I promise you Powerglide, it's going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere."

"_I'm going to hold you to that Astoria. I…Yeah, I'd be really mad if you started breaking promises now. See later then."_

"Looking forward to it," she repeated, but with a fonder tone than the flirty one from before. This time when she hung up, the phone didn't ring again.

Astoria leaned on her elbows, chin resting on her entwined fingers, looking at the innocent cell phone on her desk. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, the part of her that still survived from the selfish but plucky younger self was itching for it. That part of herself longed for the excitement, the rush, a little danger, and best of all, her Autobot guardian being around all the time again, not just the occasional stolen day or two in a month. Running the company kept her busy, and she was glad to keep her father's legacy alive and thriving, but it wasn't exactly soul fulfilling work either, and she was increasingly having days were she just wanted to shove it all off to the next guy and do what she wanted again.

"Yeah, well, that's the real world for you," she muttered sardonically to herself. "Life, work, responsibility…it's supposed to suck."

Still, all things taken into account, it'll be nice to spend some real time with Powerglide again. Maybe it'll be enough to stop the growing distance between them. Call her selfish, call her immature, but she didn't want to let go of that exotic, fantastical, exciting world just yet.

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile, in an entirely different part of the city, 26 year old Raoul Vazquez was underneath an ancient Toyota that was probably older than he and attempting to pull a Lazarus and bring it back to life, because the owner had unshakeable faith in his car being able to outlive the Apocalypse, mechanics and naysayers be damned.

"For the love of all things good and holy, buy another car!" Raoul muttered darkly to the absent owner. "You've already bought enough replacement parts to build _three_ whole new cars, and I'm guessing low here! This isn't even a vintage classic. I don't care if it was your first car, it's just a freaking _Toyota_!"

"RAOUL!"

CRACK!

"Ow!"

The poor young man had tried to do what most anyone else would have done upon hearing their name being yelled out so frantically, as if the speaker had been on the verge of panic: he sat straight up at attention, heart already pumping with adrenaline. Unfortunately, the car was still in the way, and he cracked his forehead solidly on the undercarriage.

Fun and joy abound.

"Raoul! Are you alright?"

"Oh sure, just peachy. What's a little concussion among friends?" Raoul answered sarcastically, wheeling out from under the car, one hand to the growing bump on his head. The blue firebird corvette that had mysteriously appeared in the garage sunk marginally on its wheels.

"I am sorry about that," the car said sincerely. "I couldn't see you right away. I might have been…overly anxious to ascertain your status."

Raoul gave the car a weird look. "Tracks, you're starting to sound like one of those creepy clingy girlfriends who've gotta know what their man's doing every minute."

"I am most certainly NOT!" Tracks protested, sounding like himself again. Raoul smirked.

"Dude, you totally are. You had a freaking panic attack because you didn't know where I was for three seconds. Tell me that's not a little bit freaky."

"Hmph. Do you usual treat your friends with such contempt?"

"Only the ones I like," Raoul replied brightly, standing up and wiping his hands on a rag.

While his friends Phillip "Pop-Lock" Jones and Nathaniel "Rocksteady" Wilkes still depended on street dancing for most of their income with temp or part time jobs for the winter (and doing ridiculously well for themselves in the summer, actually), Raoul had decided he wanted something more reliable. College was completely out of the question, but he loved cars and he loved working on them. Getting his current job at the garage had been one of the best breaks he had ever gotten. Tracks liked it because he could get confidential repairs that he really, really didn't want to have to explain to Ratchet (which never failed to crack Raoul up). Even without free repairs, Tracks still showed up every other weekend like clockwork, for no other reason than to hang out. Raoul's boss joked about having a special stall constructed just for him, he was over often enough.

Come to think of it, Tracks' last visit was just this past weekend, and today was only Thursday.

"Tracks, don't take this the wrong way, but what're you doing back here so soon anyway?"

The fascinating thing about Autobots was that they somehow could still emote even as faceless cars. Raoul didn't know if it was subtle movements or his own instinct born from being best friends with one for so long, but if anyone were to ask, he would swear up and down on the bible that the Firebird Corvette not only squirmed in discomfort, he also looked nervous, anxious, and maybe a little bit apprehensive.

None of which was doing anything for Raoul's nerves.

"Tracks…" the Latino man said slowly, as he lifted up his wrench. "Either you spit it out, or your bumper is coming off.

Tracks actually backed up a few inches. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wanna find out?"

"I knew I never should have let you meet Ratchet that one time," the blue car muttered darkly. Louder he asked "Are you done for the day?"

Raoul glanced over his shoulder at the very dead Toyota. "Might as well be."

Tracks popped his door open in invitation. "Come with me then. I'll explain on the way."

As Raoul slid into Tracks cabin, man and machine both failed to notice the eyes on the adjacent building watching them leave.

oOoOoOo

Chips flight was due to land at 4:55 pm. Chip only took one carry one to expedite the trip and would have his family mailing over the rest of his things later. With no need to stop at luggage pickup, Prowl estimated it would take Chip another half hour, tops to get out to the pick-up lane where he was waiting. He had arrived a little over five minutes early, and expected to wait not more than fifteen minutes.

The fifteen minute mark had come and gone nearly ten minutes ago.

Chip wasn't picking up his cell phone either. Prowl wasn't jumping to conclusions though; turning off one's cell phone was standard procedure during a flight, and forgetting to turn it back on was an easy enough mistake to make. Primus knows how often Chip made that one, to many a friends annoyance.

Instead, Prowl decided to be proactive and contacted the Communications Officer back at Metroplex.

"Blaster, check to see if there had been any delays regarding the take-off or landing of flight 301 Delta."

"_On it Prowl, just give me three seconds."_

True to his word, it literally only took a few seconds for Blaster to check. This turned out to be the only good thing to happen.

"_Prowl, the news is that there isn't any news: the plane landed almost an hour ago, no problems."_

"Contact Chips family. Perhaps he missed his flight and forgot to inform us."

Even as he said it, Prowl knew it was unlikely, not with someone like Chip. He wouldn't just forget to let them know of a change in plans, not with something as serious as this.

But, 'unlikely' wasn't the same as 'impossible'.

Blaster was back nearly five minutes later, his voice steady and almost a monotone, something that only happened when he was extremely worried or uneasy.

"_Prowl, Chips sister Bev left to drop Chip off at the airport hours ago and no one's been able to contact either of them since."_

"…Are you telling me that we have no idea where Chip or his sister are and we have lost contact with them both?"

"_I think that's what it's boiling down to Prowl."_

Prowl turned out of his parallel parking spot and tore straight to Metroplex as fast as legally possible, he did NOT have the time to deal with the local authorities right now.

"Tell Optimus that Chip is believed missing and contact has been lost. His sister may be in danger as well. Request the Arielbots be deployed to search the area between the family's home and the airport and to spread out from there, we might still be able to find clues as to where they went."

oOoOoOo

Logically, Powerglide knew that Astoria was fine. He'd talked to her just a few hours ago, and he knew she would not have left yet her office, wouldn't for another forty five minutes. Logically, he knew that she would have been close to the top of the Decepticons kidnap list, what with how she managed to make a total fool of Megatron (so she told him).

Logically, he also knew he was rarely logical.

Frankly, there was no way he would be able to relax until Astoria was next to him, where he could keep an eye on her. Maybe instead of going back to her penthouse he should just take her straight back to Autobot city, like what Prowl was going to do with Chip. Astoria would probably throw a fit for not asking her, but it's not like she'd be able to stop him once they were in the air. They could always set up a system where she could run her company wirelessly, right? It's not like she needed to physically be there _every day_, really.

Powerglide called up her cell phone, to let her know he was about twenty minutes out. Who knows, she might be able to get off early and he wouldn't have to hem and haw on her roof for ten minutes.

He waited, and waited, and waited. The phone kept ringing, until her voice mail picked it up.

'_She's probably in the bathroom or something,'_ Powerglide tried to tell himself, trying to stifle the rising panic. _'Give it five minutes, and she'll be answering the phone and making fun of me for being so paranoid.'_

Five minutes melted away. Then ten. Fifteen. Three attempts and still no answer. Not-panicking was getting harder and harder.

He could see the tall white letters of HyTech now, the glass windows glinting bright yellow and white in the afternoon sun. Powerglide dipped his wing to circle around to the other side where he knew Astoria's office was. He swore, if she just turned her phone on vibrate and forgot again and left him freaking out over nothing he was so going to-

Astoria's office window on the sixty third level was completely shattered, a black hole glaring against the silver windows around it.

Powerglide's engines stuttered.

He cut into the turn as sharply as he could, and just before he flew straight through the broken window he transformed just outside the frame and let his momentum carry him the rest of the way in. A dangerous maneuver, but it was the only way to get inside, and frankly safety precautions weren't high on his list of concerns right now.

"Astoria! Astoria!" he called out, kneeling down and frantically looking around, hoping against hope she had managed to run, to hide, to escape, because she promised she was going to be okay, she was supposed to be safe, she was supposed to be here waiting for him like she promised!

But he wasn't stupid, or blind. He could hear the glass crunching under his pedes, because the window had been broken into from the outside. He could see the thrown back chair, as if Astoria had shot to her feet and knocked it back. He could see that the door handle had been blasted right off, to stop someone inside from being able to leave. He could see the few busts, vases, and a lamp she decorated her office with thrown across the floor and scuffing on the wall, as if they'd been thrown with a great deal of might in self defense.

She had not been taken without a fight.

But she had still been taken.

"Oh Primus no…"

Powerglide jumped out the window and transformed.

"Powerglide to base! Astoria's gone, her office is a wreck! I'm circling around the city now, send back up to help look before they get too far!"

oOoOoOo

"So three guys have gone missing?"

"Two men and a woman, but yes."

"And they were all friends of yours?"

"Of the Autobots, yes."

"And you didn't mention this before _why_??"

"We don't exactly keep a chart of who's hanging out with which human in the Rec room, Raoul. No one knew about the connection until just recently. That's why we're taking action now. Speaking of which, do you have any plans for tonight, or for the weekend?"

"Not anymore, probably."

"Good. I'm taking you home now. Pack a back of things you'll need for a few days, and I'll take you back to Metroplex."

"Say what?? Dude, I can't just up and leave like that! I've got a job for one thing, I can't just disappear on Louie like that."

"I should hope you would prioritize your own safety a little more highly than _that_."

"Look, Tracks, I've gone against the Decepticons twice. Granted, it was nine years ago, but you guys have long memories. If they wanted me, wouldn't they have taken me by now?"

"Most Decepticons are not venerated for their rational prowess."

"Point. I can't leave Louie hanging like that though, not after all he's done for me."

"I'm sure he will understand, Raoul. If he doesn't, then you need to find a better work environment anyway."

"I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"You rarely do."

"Yeah right, only because you never want to admit when you're wrong."

"Which is because I am never wrong, so why should I lie?"

"Look Tracks, a flying pig! Wait, wait, sorry, it's just a pigeon. Tell you what, keep talking and we just might see one."

"Oh, how very classy of you Raoul. I'll never understand why you never tire of-"

CRUNCH!

What Raoul never tired of, he likewise never found out. One second they were driving through Raouls neighborhood, everything quiet and normal. The next, something big, blue and white swung out from the right and smashed Tracks right in the grill with a resounding crash.

Raouls entire body jerked violently forward, straining against the seatbelt and nearly slamming him into the steering wheel.

"Tracks! You okay?"

Instead of answering, after bouncing back from the crash the corvette, acting almost entirely on millions of years of training and experience, Tracks kept on moving even after the head on collision that left his front resembling an accordion. With a squeal of tires and the acrid smell of burning rubber Tracks swerved wildly and tore down the street past the attacker, taking every sharp turn he saw.

Soundwave watched them go dispassionately; just slightly favoring his undamaged leg he used to kick the Autobot as he came by. Crude, but there wasn't anyone else around to do it and it served its purpose, if the Autobots erratic weaving was any indication.

"Lazerbeak: follow. Operation: Prey."

"LEFT!"

Tracks swerved wildly away from the curb and spared the Mom and Pop grocery store he nearly went flying into. But he over compensated and was now driving in for a head on collision with an 18-wheeler.

"RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT!"

Another swerve, just barely avoiding becoming the world's largest metal accordion with a juicy chewy center by mere inches.

"Tracks, man, you alright?" Raoul asked, trying to keep calm before hysteria took over.

"I…what? I was, that was…who was that…what?" Tracks mumbled. Raoul pulled a face.

"My car has a concussion. That is fan-freaking-tastic. Tracks, pull over man, you're going to get someone killed if you keep driving like this."

"NO!" Tracks shouted, sounding almost lucid again. "I can't, I can't let them take Raoul. I'm protecting Raoul, they can't have him, they can't, I have to go…somewhere. Somewhere, where? Fly, maybe?"

"NO!!" Raoul near shrieked. "No flying, you're in no condition to fly! And ease right, you're drifting again!"

"Have to get, get us away, safe, somewhere safe, because…why? Soundwave was, what? Have to protect Raoul from Soundwave."

"Raoul is a lot more worried about you right now," the Latino young man muttered.

PSEEW! PSEEW!

Laser fire rained down along their right side close enough to blister the paint – that Tracks didn't seem to notice said more than anything about his state of lucidity right then. Acting purely on instinct and adrenaline Raoul grabbed the steering wheel and swerved. To his later shock, the car actually responded to the command, veering away from the line of fire and shooting down the adjacent street. The Decepticon condor wasn't about to let them go that easily however, and kept in hot pursuit, peppering them with fire that Raoul just barely avoided.

"Tracks, call us some back up already, I can't shake the stupid bird for you!"

"I, who? Who's calling what? Can't stop, have to keep Raoul away from them…"

"Oh for-! Tracks when this is over, you so owe me a dozen free trips to freaking EUROPE, no questions asked! And I'm eating the biggest greasiest drippiest burger in the city!"

Keeping one hand on the wheel and attempting to hold the dazed Autobot to a somewhat safe road, Raoul fumbled with his cell phone (a gift from aforementioned Autobot, "just in case") with the other hand and hit the speed dial.

"Blaster, Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, the freaking POPE, I don't care who you are, just get someone down here NOW before the freaky bird and Soundwave turn us into…"

Raoul trailed off when he realized, instead of Metroplex, he was getting static. Soundwave had blocked their communications and their Calvary.

They were on their own.

Raoul yelped and nearly hit the ceiling when Tracks went over the curb too fast, and he quickly straightened the Corvette out, but nearly got his hood blasted right off by a direct hit.

Well, if nothing else, Raoul was pretty good at keeping cool in crazy situations and improvising a solution.

"Alright then, the Calvary is out," Raoul said out loud, mostly to himself. "What do I have to do? Get the bird off us. How? Tracks can't fight, and we're barely running. Which leaves…hiding, pretty much. Wait, I know this place!"

Indeed, Raoul had been through this particular section of the city many times before, even once lived in an apartment not too far from here. So if his memory was right, coming up on their left should be-

There!

"Hey Tracks, I've got a slightly crazy idea. You trust me?"

"I always trust you." The firebird said sincerely. Raoul was so surprised he almost missed the turn.

"Uh, right. Here we go!"

Raoul made a sharp, illegal swerve left, too fast for Lazerbeak to anticipate and follow. The bird former flew right on past, but banked and turned back to follow. Except by the time it made the full turn, man and machine were already gone – into the underground parking lot where its advantage of the sky would be lost completely.

Raoul chanced a glance back, but the red and black bird hadn't followed them. For the moment, they were safe.

He heaved a sigh of relief and slumped a little in his seat.

"I think we're about good now." He said. "We'll find you a little place to hide, and I'll find a land line to call-"

A tremor shook through the ground hard enough to rattle the teeth in Raoul's head, and incredibly, unbelievably, a small fissure spit apart in the ground directly ahead of them, too big and too close to avoid. The car crashed nose first straight into it, going almost vertical with only his rear wheels spinning free and useless.

Raoul groaned and felt his head, but for the most part he wasn't too hurt.

"Ow. That was fun." He patted the dashboard. "Track, you alright man?"

No answer.

"Tracks? Tracks, c'mon, say something, this is NOT the time to be yanking me man!"

No answer. The crash had knocked him off line. The firebird was out, stone cold.

"Aw crap."

CRASH!

Raoul yelped and covered his head as broken glass rained down on him from above, the remains of Tracks' rear window. Before he even had time to comprehend what had just happened, a laser blast shot just past his head, cutting through the seatbelt and blasting a hole in the dash board.

Tracks woke straight out of his stasis, howling in agony as white hot pain blossomed and spread to every nerve and wire in his body, he couldn't remember the last time he hurt this much. Raoul, his reflexes taking over his common sense, twisted his body around and braced himself against the seats as best he could, using his body to shield as much of Tracks more delicate interior as he could from the next shot.

His reward for his selflessness was a purple fist grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling hum up and out like a rag doll.

"Let me go, you psychotic 8-track reject!" Raoul spat, kicking and clawing with all his might and making Rumble work for every inch. But his grip was like iron, and even pumping with strength enhancing adrenaline Raoul was still only human. Tracks, pain having brought him back to lucidity, could only watch in horror as the Cassette tore his friend away.

"No! No!"

Tracks tried to transform, to escape and stop Rumble, but the fresh ravine that the Cassette had created with his pile drivers was too small, too tight, and the more he tired to unfold to his root mode the more the walls pressed against him, threatening to crush him unyielding to his desperate frantic bids for freedom. Tracks rocked and revved his engines, trying to back out, wiggle out, ANYTHING, even as Rumble dragged the swearing, fighting human away.

"NO!" Tracks shouted louder in desperation. "Leave him alone! Take me instead, surely an Autobot prisoner is worth more than one human! He has nothing to offer Megatron! He's useless to you!"

Rumble actually stopped, and came back (still holding Raoul with his hands behind his back) to peer down at the trapped Autobot with a sneer.

"Hey, I don't know exactly what Megatron wants with this fleshbag, but what the boss wants, the boss gets. Thanks for the present, by the way. Saved us a lot of trouble."

To Tracks bafflement, Rumble just left with the tiring Raoul, as if their business was concluded.

"You're not going to kill me?" Tracks blurted out.

"Shut UP Tracks!" Raoul shouted.

The car couldn't see them anymore, but he could hear the smirk in Rumbles voice.

"Nah. Thought about it, but we figured we'd rather keep you around to see what happens to your pet."

Tracks fluids froze in horror. As he heard the heave metal stops moving attack, taking the fighting Raoul (always fighting, never giving up or running away because he was always ready to fight back) with him, Tracks renewed his struggles with double intensity, partially transforming and wiggling and revving his engines with all his might, fighting in vain as Raouls voice faded away.

"No! Leave him alone! You don't need him! Raoul, Raoul, RAOUL!"

oOoOoOo

It took Ratchet nearly six hours to repair the damage to Tracks from the repeated collisions and blaster fire.

It took Tracks only 20 minutes after being released on strict orders of bed rest to strong arm Skyfire into flying him back to New York _right now_.

For once, Ratchet didn't put up much of a fuss. He just asked Skyfire to keep an eye on the corvette in case he pushed himself into forced stasis, "because Primus knows he's bound and determined to do it if Raoul isn't found soon. And while you're at it, watch out for Powerglide goo, before he crashes into a building from energon depletion."

Both mechs were combing through the city with intense vigor with the rest of the search party, unwilling to rest and only stopping to refuel reluctantly. Powerglide had already asked if there was a way for him to refuel mid-flight like some human aircrafts could with the help of Skyfire, or maybe one of the Arielbots.

Prowl said no.

Speaking of which, Prowl was coordinating the search, not just for Astoria and Raoul in New York and beyond, but also for Chip and the three human taken before them. In that line, the minivan belonging to Chips older sister, Beverly had been found by local authorities in Connecticut, tires shot out and run off the road. Beverly herself was unconscious in the drivers seat, and had been taken to the hospital. She had not yet regained consciousness, but Jazz was ready to talk to her about what happened when she did. If they could find one human, chances were they would find them all.

Jazz had already taken on the duty of making sure Prowl refueled regularly and recharged for at least a couple of hours occasionally, even if both had to happen in this office because the tactician refused to leave.

With the Decepticons brazen act, Optimus ordered for all human associates to be brought to Metroplex for their own protection, no exceptions. After Astoria's kidnapping made the news, most of the humans went along without complaint.

Speaking of which, the media was having a field day with this one, and the small but vocal Anti-Autobot Pro-Human groups were trying very hard not to cackle in glee at the 'evidence' that they had been right all along and that _both_ armies needed to be kicked off the planet pronto. Optimus spoke with a couple of the larger news agencies, but there wasn't much else to be done about their image right then. He had bigger things to worry about.

Two days later, with no leads yet, Tracks and Powerglide had yet to slow down, and Silverbolt and Skyfire were getting worried about them, enough to voice their concerns to Ratchet. As these things tended to do, one thing led to another until the two had to be literally dragged back to the City for rest and repairs.

"I told you, I'm fine! I'm still kicking, aren't I?"

"Yes Powerglide, I can see that. And if you don't stop kicking I'm going to bring the twins in to tie you down too."

Tracks from two berths away fumed, having already been chained to the berth when his protests became a little too vehement for the CMO's taste.

"I don't see you getting on Prowl's case," Powerglide muttered darkly.

"Prowl has Jazz making sure he doesn't work himself to deactivation, but I'm not in the mood to be playing nurse for you!"

A knocking sound interrupted the 'discussion'. Medic and patients looked to see Mirage standing in the doorway, one hand still u from knocking against the frame.

"Excuse me, but Optimus wants to see Powerglide."

The plane perked up. "Did they find anything?"

"He didn't say anything to me," the spy said. "He just wants to see you in the Central Command room as soon as you're able."

Powerglide glanced at Ratchet. The ambulance just threw up his hand.

"Fine, go. Just be back here so I can get to those overstressed rotors of yours before you pass out in the hallway."

Overstressed rotors or not, Powerglide had never moved so fast.

"Did they find Astoria?" were, predictably enough, the first words out of Powerglides vocalizer the second he slid to a stop in the room where Optimus was speaking quietly with Prowl.

The Prime looked up as the plan came in. He gave his 2iC a significant look, and the Datsun returned with a brief nod before excusing himself and leaving, passing Powerglide on the way out. If he had seemed more taciturn than usual, or had been making a hard attempt not to look Powerglide in the optic, the plane didn't notice.

"Powerglide, thanks for coming so quickly," Optimus told the nearly vibrating flyer. He gestured to the seat by the monitor. "Please, have a seat."

"Not thanks, where's Astoria?" Powerglide asked. So keyed he was for good news and hope, he couldn't even comprehend the flicker of sadness that passed across his commanders face that his mask couldn't hide.

"Powerglide, I think you are going to need to take a seat," Optimus said gently.

Only then did it begin to dawn on Powerglide that this might not necessarily be good news.

"Optimus," he said slowly, pleadingly, as he slowly sat. "What happened to Astoria?"

Optimus lowered his optics momentarily, but met Powerglides own steadily.

"Seaspray found her just a short while ago."

Hope and joy welled up in the planes spark. "So she's alright?" he asked excitedly. "She's okay? Is she hurt? Are they bringing her here, or is she in the hospital? When can I see her?"

Optimus placed a gentle hand on the planes shoulder. "Powerglide…"

Hope and joy shriveled and died.

"Optimus, she's okay, isn't she?" he pleaded, silently begging his leader to tell him she was hurt, unconscious, in a coma, had amnesia, was delusional and believed she was Gloria Estefan, tell him anything, just don't let her be-

"I'm sorry. We couldn't save her. She's gone."

Powerglide felt the universe slow and freeze for an instant and an eternity.

"No…"

He slid off the chair and landed heavily on his knees, kept up almost entirely by the firm hand on his shoulder and back. He could sort of tell that someone was kneeling next to him, saying something, but he kept shaking his head, because it was a lie, wasn't it? She couldn't be, she promised she was going to be okay. She PROMISED him she'd be okay, and she…she's never broken a promise before, so it has to be a lie, because that's the only thing that made sense, right? So please, please Primus, don't let it be true. Let it me a mistaken identity, a bad diagnosis, an intern who messed up the paperwork, just let it me a lie, please!

But all the denial and prayers in the world weren't going to change anything.

He couldn't protect her.

Astoria was gone.

Powerglides keened and his entire body racked with sobs, and he allowed Optimus to wrap his arms around him, for once uncaring about a tough guy, devil may care image, because none of that would help his broken and devastated spark.

oOoOoOo

Seaspray had found Astoria floating by the river bank, barefoot, with a long but shallow cut along her forearm. Though her lungs were filled with water, the coroner found several tell tale signs of electrocution, the real cause of death, and possibly why she was barefoot at all.

Chip was found later that same day by a homeless man in the back of an ally, his head twisted at an unnatural angle but otherwise untouched. When Beverly woke up a few days later, she confirmed that they had been attacked by "an orange and black robot bird" than had forced them off the road. Beverly had hit her head and lost consciousness after that, but aside from the head injury she would be alright. Prowl volunteered to be the one to tell her about the fate of her youngest brother.

Raoul was discovered a little over a day later, by a bus boy taking out the trash for the Fine Dining restaurant he worked at. The body had been left in the trash bin behind the eatery, his chest crushed in by pile drivers. No one had found him before because the restaurant had been closed for a few days for renovations and had just reopened up.

The Decepticons were nowhere to be found.

The humans stayed in Metroplex for nearly a month, and would remain under watch and protection for another three months after. Whether the heightened security scared off the Decepticons or they had already finished what they set out to accomplish, no more attempts were made on the humans.

It was a hollow consolation.

Every Autobot that could, attended Chips viewing, held outdoors to accommodate the special guests. Optimus had even been asked to say a few words, which he did from his spark. The funeral itself was a more private affair for family and close friends, but it still included the Witwickies, Bumblebee, Prowl, and Optimus. Even baby Daniel kept quiet the entire time.

Astoria's funeral was an elaborate, expensive, grand affair, but cold. The majority of the guests were business associates or family members more interested in the will than the woman, and just looking at them, Powerglide couldn't help but hate them, hate them for not understanding the loss that has happened. The only wet eyes there were that of Elliot Hampton, the business partner and best friend of the late Jacob Carlton-Ritz, who had watched Astoria grow up as if she were his daughter too.

Powerglide couldn't bring himself to look Hampton in the eye when they spoke afterwards. Hampton said that Powerglide had made Astoria happy, and he knew she wouldn't want him to hold anger towards anyone. He knew Powerglide had done everything in his power to help her, and he didn't blame him for anything.

Even Powerglide could tell that it was a kind and generous lie.

Raouls funeral was comparatively tiny, but it was a genuinely sad affair. There were only maybe a dozen attendee's, including Rocksteady, Pop-Lock, Raoul's mother Maria and his little sister Lupé. The chapel was small, but the left the doors wide open so Tracks and Blaster could attend. Tracks was asked if he would like to say something, and he talked about the first time he ever met the boy, the street punk with a sharp tongue, a dubious possession of common sense, and a heart of gold.

Afterwards, Maria Vasquez approached Tracks and gave him her heartfelt thanks for trying so hard to save her son, coming very close to losing his own life in the process, and for working so hard to find him afterwards. She presented him Raouls old jacket, the tan one he had worn when he first the Corvette and what would become one of his most prized possessions. She believed Raoul would have wanted him to have it.

It would be the closest Blaster ever came to seeing Tracks cry.

For days afterward, the entire mood of the Autobots was somber as they mourned in their own ways for several weeks or more. Prowl dove into his work more than normal with the social aversion of a hermit, the only ones able to so much as approach him being Optimus, Jazz, and occasionally Bluestreak. Powerglide volunteered for every long range patrol available, the ones that usually went to Skyfire, just to get away and be alone. Tracks kept visiting the places he used to spend time with Raoul at – the garage, the city square – as if trying to keep the memories tangible.

Everyone, but especially these three, at some point, beat themselves over the head with a single persistent question:

_Why?_


	2. Encounters

**AN**: VOTE! POLL IN MY PROFILE!

My lovely readers, I am honestly torn on whether or not to include elements of "slash" in my story, if you think such a thing can exist between robots of dubious canon sexuality (as in, do they or don't they? Canon's inconsistent with this, you've got to admit). On one hand, I want this to be something anyone can read, and not everyone is comfortable with slash, no matter how light. On the other, it would add another layer, a certain element to my story I would like to explore. But then again, it's not TOTALLY necessary to the larger story either.

So I'm putting a poll in my profile: should I, or should I not, include elements of slash in my story?

Note: when I say "elements of slash," what I mean is that the bots are essentially genderless and use "he" more as a default than anything; that "slash" will be a part of the environment and background, and certain pairings that I like will be hinted at, some more strongly than others. HOWEVER, this does not mean that said pairings will suddenly start snogging each other in every available closet and slightly dim hallway. Possible hints thereof, but no play-by-play's (my apologies to the closet perverts). ^_^

So yeah, go to my profile and let me know what you think! If you have any other thoughts, just let me know in a review (hint, hint).

* * *

Ch. 2 – Encounters

It had been four months since the random attacks on the humans had stopped. Oddly enough, though the Decepticons had returned to their usual raid-for-energy-then-run-for-our-lives tactics, not one of them had made so much as a snide remark about the dead humans, or the Autobots inability to protect them. They acted as if nothing had happened, which was downright bizarre for someone like, say, Starscream, who reveled in being able to mock and flaunt his superiority.

Well, not completely. A few weeks after the attacks at a battle over a power plant, Powerglide had spotted Soundwave at the edge of the fight, focusing on gathering up as many cubes as possible before the inevitable 'retreat!' command. Enraged, the plane had dived down and landed right in front of the Decepticon tape deck, demanding to know why.

Soundwave had merely stared at him impassively before answering in his ever-monotonous way, "Humans: irrelevant."

It took the combined efforts of Blitzwing and Astrotrain to pull Powerglide off. After the Decepticons retreated, Astrotrain carrying the nearly mauled Soundwave, it took Ironhide, Sideswipe, and Trailbreaker to hold Powerglide back from chasing after them, then to hold him down when he turned his berserker rage on them instead.

Powerglide spent the next two days in solitary and nearly three weeks in the brig after that. Not for going after Soundwave alone and disobeying orders, not for the excessive and brutal violence he displayed in trying to tear Soundwave apart, but for attacking a superior officers and his own teammates in his blind rage, sending them all to the med-bay with moderate to severe injuries.

Ratchet had wanted to reduce him to his base components for that. Optimus decreed that Powerglide wasn't allowed in any more battles where Soundwave or his cassettes were confirmed participants.

Powerglide had his good days, but on his bad ones he resembled a walking keg of gunpowder ready to go off. Tracks had yet to return to the city he had once been so enamored with, the memories still too painful to confront. Prowl, well, Prowl kept himself busy as always with his duties and his routines. Some bots were even whispering that he wasn't as affected by Chips death as he should have been. But then, few bots knew Prowl as well as Jazz, Bluestreak, and even Optimus did, and fewer still saw the side of him he kept hidden from the base at large when the guilt and helplessness threaten to overwhelm him.

The rumors of Prowl's lack of feeling died a swift and gruesome death after an unamused Jazz got wind of it.

But as life was wont to do even after the most horrific events, things returned to normal. The Decepticons launched raids and attacks of the usual obtuse nature, the twins would get in trouble, Red Alert fritzed, Ratchet yelled, Wheeljack blew up his lab and occasionally came up with something useful.

Speaking of which…

"It's an electronic disruptor focused into an intense high-beam of energy," Wheeljack was explaining to the assembled Autobots as he unveiled his latest brainchild. "It can be used on regular machines, but it's designed to affect Transformer physiology. It's got two modes: Stun, which causes a temporary paralysis, or Hold, which locks them in place no matter where they are or what they're doing. I'm calling it the Stunner."

"…That's it?" Cliffjumper asked flatly. "The 'Stunner?'"

"I couldn't think of a better name," Wheeljack explained apologetically.

Incredibly unoriginal designation aside, the Stunner itself was more odd than intimidating to the optic. It had a long nosed gun with a fat round body which sat on a tripod, with a small screen and keyboard attached on the back. It only came about to Wheeljacks chest, and he was hardly the most imposing of the Autobots. All in all, the Chief Engineers latest brain child was entirely too unassuming for a new weapon in the minds of several Autobots.

"Stunner you said? So it's non-lethal?" Powerglide asked. "Then what's the point of it? We're trying to hurt the Decepticons, remember?"

"Not all the time!" Wheeljack explained cheerfully, not the least bit put out by the planes cutting tone. "It can stun a single bot for several hours, or an entire charging gestalt team for a few minutes. It can even halt a rampaging Devastator in his tracks for a little while, enough for one of our guys to get out of the way or land the right shot – how many times has the outcome of a fight depended on just a few seconds?"

"Not to mention it could be used to capture key Decepticons for prisoner exchange or interrogation," Prowl pointed out.

Powerglide perked up. "Interrogation sounds good."

The minibots around him inched a little further away.

"How has it tested, Wheeljack?" Optimus asked, walking around the gun in examination.

"Smooth as glass, Prime, better than I even hoped for this stage," Wheeljack answered, sounding like a proud Creator of a bright youngling. "Easy to use too – anyone can operate it, the control are mostly intuitive."

"So you want to field test it then?" Optimus asked, running a hand over the barrel.

"Was hoping to at the next battle. It's ready and all, but just to be safe I'll be the only one operating it until we know how well she'll perform on the field."

"Like anyone else would want to be first," Sideswipe muttered. Bluestreak giggled, but lightly slapped the frontliner on the arm for his cheek.

BA-WEEP! BA-WEEP! BA-WEEP!

"Alert! Alert! Human distress signal received. Decepticon attack confirmed: Southern Utah, Sector 49." The monotone of Teletraan 1's voice announced.

"It looks like you'll bet getting your field test sooner than later, Wheeljack," Optimus noted.

oOoOoOo

"So what's in Sector 49 anyway?" Sideswipe asked as the Autobot procession rolled across the desert. "We're out in the middle of nowhere, what's so great about this place? Is it a mine or something?"

"Sector 49 was once a top-secret government lab used for the development and testing of nuclear weapons," Optimus explained from his position at the front of the group. "When we agreed to share small amounts of our technology for the humans to combine with their own existing technology, the lab was restored and converted into a facility to develop the hybrid technologies."

"Oh, so that's where they're being developed? What would Megatron want with that?" Tracks questioned. "Such hybrid tech, while certainly decades ahead of anything the humans have now, would be far below anything Megatron could possibly want, or even use."

"They have stolen human technology before." Bluestreak pointed out. "I mean, remember that Nightbird femme? Or robot, or whatever she was? She was completely human built, but Megatron still stole her, and she ended up making a lot of trouble for us, so it's not like humans can't come up with anything on their own, they're really creative like that. Throw in some of our technology and, well, I guess we might get a bigger problem then."

"They aren't just after technology though," Optimus said. "We believe they're after a specific experiment: the prototype Exponential Generator."

Dead silence.

"…Did you say 'Exponential Generator'?"

"Yes I did Sideswipe."

"The one that one human, Dr. What's-his-face invented, what, ten years ago?"

"Dr, Archeville, yes."

"The same generator that Starscream tried to use to BLOW UP THE PLANET??!"

"That would be the one."

"…Am I the only one who's seeing a PROBLEM with this??"

"They weren't doing it on their own, you know," Jazz interjected. "Perceptors been helpin' them out, makin' sure it was all safe before anyone moved on t' the next step."

"Oh. Is that why I've got the microscope in my backseat?"

"Yes, Sideswipe," Perceptor said in a rare moment of sarcasm. "That is exactly why you have the microscope in your backseat."

"We're here." Optimus announced as he slowed to a stop.

'Here' turned out to be half a dozen widely spaced white building two or three stories high scattered across a wide cement area pad. In the center was a wide hanger that sloped down in the back, door open and gaping black like a hungry, toothless mouth. It was this hanger Optimus pointed to.

"That is the only entrance for a Cybertronian into the underground labs. The scientist who sent out the distress call couldn't get a positive ID on the intruders, only that they were at least two or three and they weren't cassettes. Which means that hanger will be their only exit.

"Wheeljack, you'll stand ready by that hanger. As soon as one of the Decepticons comes out, stun him. Bluestreak, Ironhide, the three of us will cover him in case Megatron sends a force to retrieve his team – considering the prize, he won't take any chances.

"Everyone else, you're going in to ferret out the Decepticons. If you can capture them on your own, go ahead and do it. Your priority mission is to not let them get away with the prototype generator, but don't let it be damaged. We can't predict what will happen if it is destroyed.

"There are at least 15 scientists and personal trapped inside. Keep an optic out for them, especially any in need of medical assistance.

"You have your orders. Roll out!"

With a chorus of 'Yes sir!'s the assembled Autobots scattered for their respective duties. Wheeljack picked a prime spot just the right distance from the hanger for the Stunner while Bluestreak and Ironhide stood guard on either side, one looking to the sky, the other keeping an optic on the ground. The rest – Jazz, Mirage, Tracks, Smokescreen, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Brawn, Windcharger and Perceptor – went down the rabbit hole into the labyrinthine labs below.

oOoOoOo

The game plan was simple: split off into pairs, search the halls and rooms for the Decepticons, make note of where the humans where hiding, evacuate any that needed medical assistance, and keep Perceptor in the wings in case something went wrong with the Generator and they needed him to fix it before they all went sky high. Ultimate goal was a capture, not destruction.

Considering the necessity of Perceptors skills in case of such an event, he was to wait and hide in a designated room with a pair of guards, partially to protect him, mostly to get him from point A to point B as fast as possible if things got dicey.

This did not happy guards make.

"Guard duty? _Guard duty??_ Are you kidding me?? How are we supposed to see any action doing guard duty?!"

With ease born of millennia of practice, Sunstreaker examined his gun and tuned his brother out. Sideswipe gave no indication he noticed.

"I mean, come on, this just screams 'send in the twins!'" Sideswipe ranted as he kept pacing. The room was large as far as humans were concerned, what with most of the labs being built to accommodate the on-average-20-foot alien robot…which meant it was just big enough for the slightly-larger-than-average Sideswipe to pace 9 steps in one direction before he hand to turn the other way.

"And usually 'send in the twins' is synonymous with 'the slag is about to hit the fan, let's send in the heavy hitters!' or something. Guard duty is for the minibots!" he ranted on.

"Except that the minibots can check more places than we can without having to crawl," Sunstreaker noted dully. "You might not have any dignity to speak of, but personally I refuse to tarnish my armor crawling on my hands and knees."

With ease born of millennia of practice, Sideswipe kept pacing and tuned his brother out, vocally complaining about boredom and not getting to do anything.

Perceptor considered speaking up and reminding the red twin of the importance of his duty to the overall mission and that the Autobots would be relying on them to pull through in case of an accident most dire…but considering he was the reason Sideswipe was right where he didn't want to be, Perceptor wisely remembered to keep his mouth shut. For all intents and purposes, both twins seemed to have forgotten he was even there, sitting quietly in his alt mode between a computer with an attractive oval screen and a coffee machine that was probably almost as old the facility itself.

Perceptor was just fine with that.

oOoOoOo

Sender: brainoverbrawn+  
Receiver: catchmeifyoucan, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Terrible Two's  
Message: Guy's, I'm stuck. I'm done with the data, but I've got Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in here, and I don't think they're leaving any time soon.

Sender: catchmeifyoucan,  
Receiver: brainoverbrawn, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Re: Terrible Two's  
Message: Hey, no sweat! I'm already on my way, I'll get them out of there for you.

Sender: sugar_n_spice  
Receiver: catchmeifyoucan, brainoverbrawn  
Subject: Re:Re: Terrible Two's  
Message: Watch it hot shot. Those guys are tough, and if we drop the ball, on our first mission no less, the boss is going to put our heads on spikes and use them to decorate his room.

Sender: catchmeifyoucan  
Receiver: brainoverbrawn, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Re:Re:Re: Terrible Two's  
Message: Oh come on, I've heard about these guys. They used to be an _artist_ and a _merchant_ before the war! How bad could they possibly be?

Sender: brainoverbrawn  
Receiver: catchmeifyoucan, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Actually…  
Message: Uh, catchme? Those two spent at least three vorns fighting for their lives in the underground gladiator matches. The yellow one is still one of the fiercest, most dangerous fighters the Autobots have, and the only reason the red on is considered "less dangerous" is because he doesn't fly off the handle as quickly.

Sender: catchmeifyoucan  
Receiver: brainoverbrawn, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Re: Actually…  
Message: ….oh.

Sender: sugar_n_spice  
Receiver: brainoverbrawn, catchmeifyoucan  
Subject: Toldja  
Message: See, this is why it's important to do your homework, sweetie.

Just don't get caught, okay?

Sender: catchmeifyoucan  
Receiver: brainoverbrawn, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Re: Toldja  
Message: Have I ever?

Sender: brainoverbrawn  
Receiver: catchmeifyoucan, suguar_n_spice  
Subject: Re:Re: Toldja  
Message: Let's not get started. Just be careful – you've got all the fighting prowess of a wet cabbage leaf, so if you're caught, you're completely screwed.

Sender: catchmeifyoucan  
Receiver: brainoverbrawn, sugar_n_spice  
Subject: Love you too  
Message: Gee, thanks, I really needed that pick up.

oOoOoOo

"Seriously, there's only three 'Cons TOPS down here!" Sideswipe went on, gesturing wildly. "Three 'Cons, and SIX Autobots, plust three MORE outside. Okay, I get that since we don't know who it is we have to be careful, we don't know what they can do, better safe than sorry, yadda yadda, but I swear to Primus, the only way we're going to get to do anything is if one of those 'Cons waltzes in here wearing a sign saying 'slag me, please'!"

The door swished open. "Man, that was the easiest swipe I ever-"

The speaker stopped mid sentence as he caught sight of the Autobot.

Sideswipe stared.

Sunstreaker stared.

The orange bot, still with one pede in the air, stared.

Several thoughts ran through Sideswipes CPU in the first few seconds, namely: "who is this guy?", "I didn't know we had new recruits", and "He's so orange, he'd blend right into the Ark walls, no wonder I've never noticed him before."

Indeed, the bots mostly orange armor, eye-catching as it was against the cool blue and white facility walls, would probably render him near perfectly camouflaged in the Ark. Along with the orange, he also had black highlights and white thighs and midsection. He was clearly a car-former, just like 80% of the Autobot army, as could be clearly seen from the hood that made up the flat plane of his chassis. His helm was smooth and round with a rim over his face like a helmet, and a quick glance down revealed elevated heels that gave him a little extra height – which almost made him level with Sideswipes midchest. He was no minibot, but for a "full sized" mech he was almost tiny.

He looked so much like an Autobot, in fact, that it took Sideswipe an extra couple of seconds to notice his red optics and the purple emblem on his chassis.

He was also holding a grey and black, oblong, engine like machine in the crook of one arm.

"Who the frag are you, where did you come from, and what are you holding?" Sideswipe asked bluntly. The other bot lowered his pede and placed a fist on his hip, looking slightly annoyed.

"Names Freerun. Came from Cybertron. You, like _every other giant alien robot_ on the planet. Blows your brain, don't it?"

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics dangerously and raised his gun slightly. "Watch it, newbie. I have no patience today." He growled in warning. "I don't care who you are, but if you're a 'con, then you're here for the Exponential Generator."

The yellow warrior raised his rifle level to Freerun's head. "Hand the generator over or your head is coming off."

Freerun raised the device, presumably the generator, up in front of him. "You shoot me, you hit the generator, and we ALL get to go sky high in itty bitty pieces."

"Ah, actually-" Perceptor tried to say, but the meek scientist was quickly drowned out. (sigh…)

"You've got two guns trained on you and six of our guys are going to be coming back any minute," Sideswipe warned, circling around a little closer. "And believe me, those guys can shoot. You don't have any other choices, oh brilliant one. Either hand it over, or get blasted."

Freerun pretended to think for a moment. "I take door number three: I keep the generator and run for my life."

With a zip! of something being dropped into subspace, Freerun spun on his heel and leaped forward head first, transforming in mid leap and landing hard on his already spinning wheels. With a short squeal he was already tearing away as if he had the Unmaker on his tail.

Or rather, two.

"Oh no you don't!" Sideswipe yelled in a bizarre combination of fury and joy. In near unison the twins holstered their guns, leaped, fell, hit the floor on wheels and sped off as well, leaving thick black marks on the floor in their wake as they gave chase.

Leaving poor little Perceptor all alone as he listened to the rumbling engines die away, until it was completely silent.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

"Well, that was certainly not in the plans," he commented to no one. He sighed. "I wish those two would put a little more thought into their actions, rather than be so impulsive all the time. Certainly retrieving the generator would be paramount, but would it not have been more productive to contact the rest of the team and let them know what has transpired?"

"Probably, but that would have made far too much sense."

Perceptor lightly laughed. "Yes, they do seem to go out of their way to behaving the most nonsensical way possible – though Ratchet would greatly prefer they did no hurry so quickly to the thick of every fight."

"On the plus side, them drawing all the fire means there's no one left to shoot at us. I didn't sign up to be cannon fodder, thank you very much."

"Point taken," Perceptor conceded. "Best to leave that to the likes of the twins."

"Amen to that!"

Mollified about being so quickly forgotten, Perceptor decided to pass the time doing a few thought experiments. He was only here in case the generator was damaged, so he might as well try to get something productive done if or when that-

Two seemingly inanimate objects froze.

"You know, for a couple of mechs as smart as ourselves, that took an embarrassingly long time to sink in," the blue computer admitted.

"Quite."

oOoOoOo

High performance engines roared and reverberated down the halls as three cars – two Lamborghini Coutachs and one orange and black 1995 Toyota Supra – tore down the hall at speeds pushing and above the triple digits, where so much as a slip would send a participant into a devastating crash, possibly taking one or all with them.

But no matter how hard he pushed and tried and wished, a Toyota was not going to out race a Lamborghini on a flat stretch. In seconds the twins were eating up the distance until a mere 10 feet separated them.

"What d'ya Sunny?" Sideswipe asked in gleeful mock-seriousness. "Wanna surround him or just ram him?"

"I'm not denting my fender for him. But it would be nice to how big a crash and burn he'll make."

"Our very own NASCAR disaster! Too bad though, this race was over before it whoa!"

With an audio-piercing squeal of tires Freerun made the tightest turn the twins had ever seen and slipped into an adjacent hall with barely inches to spare.

Sideswipe, on the inner side, turned as hard as he could but still drifted a good eight feet and over shot by nearly fifteen before he could right himself and catch up. Sunstreaker had to swerve widely and wildly out of the way to avoid becoming the aforementioned NASCAR disaster courtesy of his own brother. By the time they were back on track, Freerun had gained over fifty feet on them.

The fifty feet gained lead was eaten up by the much faster Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in just a handful of seconds, only for them to lose it again when the much more agile Freerun made a last minute turn the twins lacked the traction and radius to match.

"You guys think I'm gonna make it easy for you?" Freerun mocked as he made a feint right only to go left (and nearly sending Sunstreaker into the wall in the process). "I was assembled on the streets of Kaon, not some sissy-straight race track. You guys haven't got a chance of catching me!"

"Until you run out of places to go!" Sideswipe shot back, revving just a little bit harder in warning of things to come. "We're in a fragging _underground_ lab – you can't run forever!"

"You can't keep chasing me forever either!"

"Obviously, because you have to stop running!

"And I won't stop running until you're done chasing!"

"We're not going to stop chasing until you're done running!"

"Okay, now you're just arguing semantics." Sunstreaker cut flatly.

The trio was so busy snarking at each other, no one noticed Jazz stepping out in to the hall directly in front of them. The black and white spied Freerun coming fast and immediately raised his gun to shoot out his tires.

What Freerun did next was almost pure reflex.

Before Jazz could take the half second to line up his shot, Freerun had already transformed, ran two steps, and _leaped_ over the startled saboteurs head in a tuck and roll, transforming again and hitting with wheels already spinning, squealing down the hall again.

"Coming through!"

That was Jazz's only warning before Sideswipe zipped by so he nearly clipped the edges off of Jazz's pedes. The visored mech was forced to take an unsteady step back to keep his non-existent toes intact-

CRUNCH!

-which brought him directly into Sunstreakers path.

Jazz hit the ground hard as Susntreaker pushed his foot right out from under him with the force of a train gone berserk. Jazz felt searing pain spiking from his ankle joints and sending fire up his entire leg, and he was fairly certain he could feel a few important bits falling apart beneath the cracked and dented plating.

Sunstreaker didn't even appear to notice he'd just collided with anything, just kept up the chase as if nothing happened.

Jazz watched them go sourly as they all swung around the corner. Well, now he had an idea as to why the twins had been so silent up to now.

"Heads up Mirage," Jazz commed to his partner. "Sides and Sunny just came through chasing something small and orange. Can't pursue them myself, but you might wanna keep outta the way, they're not so good at watching the road."

"_Copy that. Do you need assistance?"_

"'m fine for now. Don't let the orange one get away. An' don't let the red and yellow ones run over you either, they're practically surging on a battle-high now and they're not paying too close attention to anything else."

"_Point taken. Mirage out."_

With his partner duly warned, Jazz pushed himself up and leaned against the wall, tenderly moving his injured leg as best he could without jiggling it too much. Primus, just sliding it a foot was pure agony, Jazz was gritting his denta just to keep from screaming. He wouldn't be surprised if several important something's were completely cracked, if not totally broken. Ratchet was just going to love this. Though, imagining what their lovable CMO was going to do to Fast and Furious for this was already bringing a smile to his face.

The smile abruptly dropped when he heard the 'cla-clik' and hum of a gun being cocked and charged.

Jazz looked up to see the muzzle of a rifle that was mere inches from his head.

"Wow. Either I'm really slippin', or you've got the quietest pedes of any 'bot I've ever met," he commented calmly.

"Not really," his captor said with a shrug. "I'm just quieter than those three idio-what happened to your leg?!"

oOoOoOo

Back in the data storage room, two not so inanimate objects were sharing an awkward silence together.

"I'm a little new to this battle thing, just so you know," the computer said first. "But from what I understand, this is usually the part where we transform and do our very best to either escape, prevents the others escape, or offline each other, whichever we prefer."

"Those are the common reactions to such a situation as this, yes," Perceptor agreed.

Neither made a move.

"I don't want to fight you," the computer admitted.

"I would prefer not to fight either." Perceptor said. Sounding slightly surprised, he added "By the way, not to sound narrow minded, but I believe that is the very first time I have ever heard such out of a Decepticon,"

The computer chuckled a little.

"Well, considering what you have to work with, I can't say I blame you. The Decepticons here have too much brawn and not enough brain, and the ones that do have brain often seem to forget it. My name's Datum, by the way."

"Oh, forgive my rudeness. I am Perceptor."

"Perceptor?" Datum repeated, sounding genuinely surprised. "The Autobot Jack-of-all-Trades scientist?"

"Is that what the Decepticons have been calling me?" Perceptor asked, not sure if he should be surprised, confused, pleased, or offended.

"Well, no. That's was Freerun decided to dub you after I told him a little about you."

"How do you know about me?"

"Anyone who attended the Science Academy knows about the mech who dabbled in every single field they offered and a few they didn't, and still managed to skip three levels in spite of insane multitasking. By the way, were you really that bad, or was that just hearsay?"

"Actually yes, I was," Perceptor admitted with a bit of a laugh. "I was simply far too curious to satisfy myself with a single field. But you said you attended the Science Academy? What did you study?"

"I focused on Computer Sciences and Engineering, with minors in related fields like programming, mechanical engineering, almost anything where I could make something with my hands, though I didn't have my fingers in as many fields as you apparently did. You're the entire reason I'm here on Earth now, you know."

"Oh? How's that?"

"Too much brawn, not enough brain, remember? Megatron didn't have any dedicated scientists on his team, and after the Cosmic Rust incident it became painfully clear he needed one. Which reminds me: you examined the Rust extensively when you made that cure, right?"

"…Yes."

"Would you consider the rust a living organism, either biological or nonbiological? It fits several criteria, in that it responded to stimuli and reproduced – oh man did it reproduce – but it didn't actually have a metabolism, and it's hard to say if each cell maintained a homeostasis."

"Oh, well, I hadn't thought of that before. Yes, it did behave as a living organism, though considering its preference for a metal host, I would say it was ultimately non-biological just as you and I are. Why do you say it lacked a metabolism? It ingested healthy metal and created the brittle rust in its wake, so it certainly 'ate'."

"I don't think it actually _ingested_ the metal. I think that was more in line with its reproductive cycle, which would it make it more similar to a virus and thus, not actually a living creature."

Somewhere in the scientific debate on what constitutes a living non-biological organism, the Decepticon and Autobot managed to completely forget they were on opposite sides of a war.

oOoOoOo

Tires squealed and burned long tracks of rubber on the linoleum once, twice, three times at speeds their speedometers weren't designed to measure. High performance engines roared and thundered up and down the hall as three racing cars zipped and spun through the underground labyrinth, each turn threatening to send them all in a fiery crash into the wall, each stretch threatening a full out three way collision, with mere inches dividing them between life and death.

It was dangerous, stupid, insane…and the most exhilarating fun Sideswipe has had outside of an actual battle in a long time.

Judging from the crazed laughter he could hear from Freerun occasionally when he pulled of a particularly good twist (including one where he had to _roll over_ to make the turn before crashing head on into the wall), he was probably feeling the same way.

The final corridor, with no more off shooting halls, no last minute turns, only a long flat stretch and a dead end. The wall loomed fast, there was nowhere left to turn, but Freerun pushed his engine even harder for every inch of speed he could force out. He could hear behind him the twins pushing to match, eating up his lead foot by foot, mere seconds before they either over took him or he crashed head first into the wall and ended the game.

Inside, he grinned.

With only forty feet to go Freerun transformed back into running root mode.

Step step step _jump_ onto the wall feet first, push back, twist, flip over the twins and hit the ground running back down the corridor, direction changed 180 degrees without ever pausing or hesitating in his constant state of liquid motion.

His would-be captors weren't as lucky.

Freerun chanced a glance back just in time to see the pair try to turn and spin around, only to careen out of control and crash into each other, still sliding across the smooth floor until-

CRUNCH! CRASH!

-they collided with the very wall Freerun had literally bounced off of.

"Ha HA! YES!" Freerun crowed.

Freerun's victory praise was abruptly cut short when he crashed full body into empty air.

With a help and a painful crunch Freerun crashed into…something in the extremely empty hall, hard enough to send hi mflying and landing face first on the floor.

Except when he got his wits back, he noticed he was actually floating several feet above it.

"What. The hell?" Freerun wondered bluntly.

As if on command, the "air" beneath him rippled, turning blue and with until it reveal a certain Autobot spy to the very stupefied Freerun. Said spy had knocked his head against the floor when he fell and was now out cold."

"Huh. Whaddya know." Freerun commented, sitting up. "Gotta say though, I'm thinking the whole invisibility cloak thing is highly overrated."

Mirage had no comment.

_Click-click. Click-click._

Freerun froze. Now, he may be a newbie to this whole war-thing, but you don't forget the sounds of guns cocking in the near vicinity of your head.

Slowly, he half turned and looked over his shoulder at the red and gold warriors behind him, a little worse for wear but far from being done.

"Off. The Autobot." Sunstreaker growed. His paint was scratched to the Pit, his armor dented, his tires burned to the strip, and he was in a just plain sour mood. In short, he looked positively murderous.

Sideswipe, on the other hand, while in a similar state of disrepair, was grinning maniacally with too bright optics, engines still rumbling slightly from the near-fatal race he just walked away from. He looked disturbingly giddy, tempered only slightly by having a Decepticon straddling his fellow (unconscious) Autobot.

Freerun slowly raised his hands up and carefully stood up, getting off of Mirage, and turned around to face Sunstreaker and Sideswipe properly. He also put on his best, most placating smile he could muster.

"You wouldn't shoot an unarmed prisoner, right?" he asked.

"If Optimus didn't want at least one of you alive, I'd tear your head off right not for all the slag you just put us through," Sunstreaker told him in a calmly dark voice.

Freeruns smile wilted slightly.

"Ah c'mon Sunny, you're just sore because you couldn't keep up!" Sideswip broke in cheerfully (though his gun never wavered from Freeruns head). "Even without the capture orders, this guy's just too much fun to kill."

Freerun grinned. He looked at Sunstreaker and pointed to his brother with one still-raised hand.

"See, this guy, I like."

"Terrific. I'll let Prowl know to set up a play date for you two after we toss you in the brig." Sunstreaker promised flatly.

Freerun looked at Sideswipe, and jerked his head towards Sunstreaker. "Is he usually all grumpy like this?"

"Only when he's awake."

"Fun for you. 'Kay, I'm not crazy about your brother, but you seem like a pretty good guy for an Autobot. So, I'm going to give you (and by extension Sunstreaker since he's, you know, right over there), a little warning: put down the guns right now, and you won't be hurt."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged looks.

"Well, I'll give you points for trying," Sideswipe said. "But a bluff would work a lot better if you gave us half a reason to believe you're actually in any position to-"

A sharp prick to the back of both their necks was all the warning they got.

ZA-AAP!

The twins spasmed and twitched for a second before collapsing into boneless heaps on the floor, still awake and aware but completely paralyzed.

Sideswipe happened to land mostly on his back to look straight up onto the ceiling, right into one of the florescent lights in fact (how fun). The glaring light was shortly blocked by an upside down, vaguely triangular red, white, and silver head, with blocky shoulder mounts and twin long, double jointed, wicked looking "feelers" arching from behind the shoulders and over the head. Even as Sideswipe watched, the creepy looking feelers folded back and tucked out of sight behind their back. But it wasn't the feelers that arrested Sideswipes attention; it was the new guys face.

If he could, Sideswipe would have dropped his jaw.

"He did warn you," the red and yellow femme – femme! – told him cheekily.

"What took you so long Ampere?" Freerun asked as he came over. Ampere straightened as she answered her teammate.

"Me? You should be glad I showed up at all. Next time you decide to get all fancy like that, I'll just sit back and let these guys have their nasty way with you."

"Ampere!!"

The femme laughed merrily at her friend's mortified expression. "Oh relax, I'm just kidding."

"With you I never know." Freerun muttered. Ampere just giggled behind her hand. But her merriment faded. She glanced down and around at the three helpless Autobots at her feet, her expression gone completely blank.

Sideswipe felt his fuel pump speed up and his optics widen and brighten a pale blue in almost foreign fear. They were helpless, they were completely helpless, at the mercy of this unknown Decpeticon. Any 'Con worth their fuel wouldn't pass up on this golden opportunity to eliminate two of the Autobots best front liners and their most effective spy in one fell swoop.

"Ammy…" Freerun said softly. The femme looked back up at him.

"I won't…say anything if you won't." he said.

A slight hesitation that lasted an eternity.

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible," Ampere said quietly. "You get the generator out of here and send a message out to Soundwave to get us out of here. I'll get Datum. We'll meet you topside."

Sideswipe couldn't see it from his angle, but he could hear almost palpable relief as Freerun answered, "Yes ma'am."

Ampere turned and walked away, her feet tapping lightly against the floor.

A brief moment, then Sideswipe felt hands at his legs trapped under his own torso.

"Freerun." Ampere said blandly. "What are you doing?"

"Straightening this guy out," Freerun answered, as if it were obvious. "He landed practically on top of his own feet. He can't feel anything right now, but when the paralysis wears off his joints are going to mutiny against him."

Ampere stared, sighed, and came over to help manhandle the larger, heavier Sideswipe until he was comfortably flat on his back. Freerun even gently turned his head so he wouldn't be staring straight into the light fixture for who knows how long. Sideswipe could now see his brother, awkwardly twisted, half flat and half on his side with an arm being pinned underneath him. Sideswipe was feeling uncomfortable just looking at it.

"You want to help the Yellow One too?" Ampere asked dryly, a hand on her hip.

"Heck no." Freerun said equally flatly. "That one wanted to tear my head off."

If looks could kill, Freerun would have been a pile of molten slag. The corner if Sideswipes lips twitched in an attempt to grin through the paralysis.

Ampere laughed. "Right then. Now get going, we've wasted enough time already. We can't afford to be trapped down here when the entire Autobot army decides to fall on our heads."

"Aye aye capt'n!"

Sideswipe listened to the two new Decepticons hurry down opposites ends of the hall, until their echoing steps faded away. Left alone in the silence, Sideswipe was free to ponder, _'What the slag just happened?'_

Three minutes later, Sideswipe heard someone groaning. Since Sunstreaker still wasn't moving at all (and somehow managing to looked incredibly torqued even with limited facial mobility), that meant that Sleeping Beauty was finally waking up.

"Wha..what hit me? Wait, Sideswipe? Sunstreaker? What are you doing on the floor?"

If he could, Sideswipe would have glared.

oOoOoOo

"…leading to the opposing White Hole in the hypothetical other universe."

"But if there is such a thing as a White Hole, there should be at least a few wormholes leading in the opposite direction from there to here, from their Black Holes to our White holes. So where are our white holes?"

"The galaxy is tremendously huge, and even after millions of years we've still only explored a small part of it. Whose to say White holes don't exist?"

"Would we even recognize a White hole if we saw it?"

"Hm, good question. It would probably be mistaken for a particularly bright, dense sun. We may have already discovered a few, only we didn't realize what we were actually looking at."

"So how would we go about testing for the difference?"

"Well, hypothetically, a White Hole would-"

The two scientists stopped as they each received a message from their respective teammates almost at the exact same time.

"…Mirage is sending two Autobots here to make sure I am undamaged and able to repair Sunstreaker and Sideswipe," Perceptor said.

"My team leader is heading this way to collect me so we can get out of here." Datum mentioned.

A brief pause.

"I still don't want to fight you, but I won't let myself be taken prisoner either." Datum said seriously.

"Well, that is a sentiment we share then." Perceptor said. "I suppose it now comes down to which of our teammates gets here first."

"Yep."

So the pair waited patiently for the dice to roll. They didn't have to wait long.

The door swished wide open to admit the decider of their stalemate.

"Datum, time to go."

If he had a jaw, Perceptor would have dropped it.

Once the scientific discussion and debate and started rolling, it had completely slipped the scientists mind to question his unexpected conversationalist partner about his teammates. He might have guessed it would have been someone as new to him as Datum, but when he had said his 'team leader' was coming, Perceptor had called to mind an image of a tallish, bulky mech in armor sporting heavy weaponry, probably in dark, earthy colors.

He had not been anticipating a slender, graceful red, yellow and white femme to stride in, one pede perfectly in front of the other like an aristocrat. She even had a skirt-like attachment to her hips, completely useless for anything except aesthetics, a tell-tale sign of someone born in the Towers. She was such a complete, total, absolute opposite of what Perceptor had been expecting that this first image of her would be imprinted in his memory for quite possibly the rest of his days.

That she was also drop-dead gorgeous didn't hurt.

The femme stopped and made a beckoning motion with her hand. "Come on, we don't have much time left before the Autobots figure out Freeruns not the only 'Con down here."

"Really Ampere? I wouldn't have guessed," Dadum said with a hint of dryness. But he transformed anyway, uncurling to his full height.

Even alone in a room with two Decepticons, Perceptor still took a moment to examine the computer-formers root mode. The mech was predominately shades of dark and light blue, with white legs reminiscent of his keyboard. Perceptor could see half his face, including the red visor and the oval screen that took up most of his chest. Give him a mask and he could have passed as Soundwaves little brother.

Perceptor shifted his attention to the femme – Ampere, Datum had called her – to gauge what she might have thought of him.

But she wasn't looking at her teammate. She was staring intensely at him.

"Was that microscope there before?" she asked slowly.

Oh Primus, here it comes…

Perceptor felt his transformation cogs already tightening together as could, fearful anticipation swam in his systems, his mind going completely blank as he dumbly waited for Datum to do the inevitable and expose him take him prisoner he can't escape now what was he thinking just waiting thinking that just because they had spent the better part of 45 minutes talking that he could possibly-

"Yeah actually. You didn't see it before?"

_Huh?_

Perceptor felt his reality snap back into place. Too bad it still didn't make any sense.

Ampere shifted her attention from the hidden Perceptor to the computer former with a raised brow. Datum spread his hands.

"Ammy, I've been sitting here by my lonesome for almost three hours, even BEFORE the Autobots got here. The coffee machine and I are on a first name basis now. I thing I would have noticed any lab equipment spontaneously appearing on the table."

Ampere considered, and then shrugged.

" Okay, fine. Let's just go already."

The femme led Datum out the door, which swished closed behind them. But it wasn't fast enough to block the last little smirk Datum shot to the now utterly befuddled Perceptor.

Did Datum just lie to his teammate…to protect him?

Perceptor just about had a spark attack when the door opened again not thirty seconds later. Only this time, it was the more familiar Windcharger and Brawn.

"Alright Science bot, get up and come with us," Brawn ordered. "The twins are down from Primus knows what, and we just found out that Jazz's only got one working leg."

"What? Oh, yes, that is a problem," Perceptor said as he shifted back into root mode. "I'll do what I can for them then."

Brawn took point while Windcharger took up the rear, positioned to defend the much taller mech between them. Percpetor didn't take any offense; he was well of his less than stellar fight capabilities, especially when compared to the minibots.

As they turned right out the door, Perceptor realized with a slight start that, when Ampere and Datum had left, they had turned left down the hall, the opposite direction. But if they hurried, they could probably still catch up to them. Windcharger could immobilize them with his magnetic field, and Brawn was the strongest mech the Autobots have, more than enough to take their weapons and make sure they wouldn't be able to resist being taken prisoner.

Perceptor pressed his lips together and didn't say a word.

oOoOoOo

Freerun wasn't stupid. He knew that the most straight forward, obvious path would be the first to be swarmed by Autobots waiting for him. To avoid getting in a firefight with half a dozen battle-honed mehcs, Freerun took a more round about path to avoid the predicable. He even crawled and squeezed through a human sized corridor to avoid bumping into a pair of minibots with a taller red guy between them. Granted, they didn't exactly inspire awe and terror to look at, but he had heard about the red and green mech with the domed silver head, in particular how he could twist a mech into a pretzel with his bare hands and do it with a smile. All in all, Freerun was feeling pretty good about himself for getting this far without being spotted or firing a single shot.

This did not explain why he was currently running for his life from a blue and red doorwinger with freaking _cannons_ on his _shoulders_.

"You're not supposed to be trying to kill me!!" Freerun screeched as he ducked his head to avoid the plasma blast.

"I know. I have better aim than that." Smokescreen shot back, verbally and literally. Freerun yelped – crap, he could feel his paint blistering from the heat of the near misses!

"Stop shooting at me!"

"Stop running away."

"No! You'll hit me if I stop!"

"If I were to stop shooting, would you stop running?"

"Hell no!"

"Then we're a bit of a quandary."

"You suck!"

Freerun was no idiot, but between the potshots, his running, and the commentary, it's no wonder he was too distracted to realize what the Diversionary Tactician was doing.

Appearing from nowhere, a blue

_Leg swung from the right out of the darkness never saw it coming through your body forward so hard air knocked right out hits the fender hard hear the metal crumble like a tin can it hit straight on out of nowhere run away glass cracking ready to shatter_

Freerun blinked at the ceiling, dazed and flat on his back.

Above him, a blue mech stood, watching the Datsun approach at a leisurely pace.

"I still don't see why I couldn't have just tripped him," the mech said in a cultured, snobbish tone as he massaged his arm. "It would have spared me a bit of pain."

Freerun shuttered his optics again. Right, he remembered now. It wasn't a leg, it was an arm, coing out and hitting him square in the chest like a tree branch hanging too low. Freerun had been going too fast, and the sudden stop of his upper body had swept his still moving feet right from under him, sending him falling flat on his back.

He wondered if that…_thing_ that just happened was concussion induced. Ammy was going to have fun with that, he just knew it. Assuming he got the chance to tell her.

Freeruns reverie was cut short when the mech that knocked him down bent down and roughly pulled him to his feet. His captor kept his grip on the orange mechs upper arm, not painful, but firm. It wasn't quite enough to prevent Freerun from overbalancing, and he briefly knocked against the blue mechs chest. As he was a fair amount taller than himself (as most mechs tended to be, darn it), Freeruns face smacked almost right into the Autobot symbol on his chest.

"If you had settled for just tripping him, he might have just rolled or picked himself up and kept going," Smokescreen explained as he approached. "This way we could be certain to stop him in his tracks, Tracks."

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

Tracks?

Freerun looked up at the taller mech…and froze.

He was talking, both the Autobots were talking, but Freerun wasn't paying attention. They could have been talking through three feet of cotton for all that he was able t comprehend right then. His attention was taken up completely and solely by this mechs…Tracks'…face.

He was predominately blue, with a contrasting orange face framed by a white helm and hood with appendages coming out at the sides that looked a little like wings, a unique and eye-catching design. He was an attractive mech, more than attractive if Freerun had to be honest (not that he'd ever say that out loud), but that wasn't what arrested his attention. He didn't know WHY he couldn't stop staring, but there was something about him, something that niggled at the back of his processor, and if he didn't break his concentration he just might be able to think of it, or remember where-

The Autobot finally glanced down and noticed the piercing attention he had been receiving from the young mech in his arms.

"I know I'm gorgeous, but it's rude to stare you know," he said huffily.

"You're…Tracks?" Freerun asked slowly.

In a dry voice he commented, "You have a mind like a steel trap."

Freerun's engine stilled.

"I…know you."

End Ch. 2

* * *

AN: I think I abused more onomotapia's in this chapter than anything else I've ever written. I should mark it. ^_^

If you want to see what Ampere, Datum, and Freerun look like, check the links in my profile please. Remember, I still would love to hear from you in my poll or in a review! Because reviews are love and puppies! ^_^


	3. Flight, Fight, Flight

**AN**: Eeek, it's been awhile, hasn't it? "Little Brother" just kind of took up all my time and inspiration, and this story ended up on the back burner. I was actually inspired to pick this up again after my last reviewer, who gave such kind and detailed thoughts I just HAD to pick this up again just for her. :) To make up for it, it's an extra long chapter (30 pages in Word!!). Of course, that mostly has to do with me not being able to find a good place to cut it off. *sheepish grin*

One other thing: seems I might have goofed a little. Turns out, when I first tried putting up the poll, it didn't appear in my profile. It took a bit of messing around before I managed to get it up a few days later. So! You still have a chance to place a vote on whether or not I should include elements of slash in this story. I can still go either way, but I think I'm going to need to make a decision pretty soon.

If the vote goes 'no' or if I just plain change my mind…just assume a certain character here rolls both ways, m'kay?

* * *

Ch. 3 – Flight, Fight, Flight

_~ Earlier ~_

"Wow. Either I'm really slippin', or you've got the quietest pedes of any 'bot I've ever met."

A one shoulder shrug. "Not really. I'm just quieter than those three idio-what happened to your leg?!"

Behind his visor, Jazz raised a brow.

His captor was a Decepticon he had never seen before, and a femme to boot – which is especially surprising considering the fifteen-to-one ratio that had been everyone's last best guess regarding the femme population, and that the vast majority of them were serving under Elita One back on Cybertron.

While the femme stared at Jazz's ankle in a mix of shock and horror (keeping her rifle on him, so at least she wasn't totally daft), Jazz himself took the chance to examine her.

Predominately red and silver, with optic catching accents of yellow here and there and a slender frame that cleverly and creatively integrated her car alt-mode features; the femme was more than just reasonably attractive. Of course, to have that 'slender frame' meant forgoing the heavy armor and weaponry the majority of Decepticons favored, an odd choice for someone who's just been assigned to where the fighting was thickest. She also had a skirt-like addition attached to her hips, bringing attention to her waist, and completely superfluous otherwise…and most long time soldiers stop bothering with the superfluous a long time ago. That, and her reaction to the enemy's injury was also more telling than she'd probably like to believe.

'_Still green, huh?'_ Jazz thought. But that left the puzzle of what she was doing on Earth on the first place and under Megatron's direct command – the Decepticon warlord only surrounded himself with the strongest fighters he could find. He would have no use for someone who was still fresh faced.

'_Didn't think there were even any fresh-faces left after all this time.'_

At that moment, the femme got over her shock enough to speak again.

"How are you not curled up in a little ball of pain right now?!" she asked incredulously.

Fresh-faced or not, the reaction was well justified. Jazz's left ankle, the one the visored mech kept straight and was on the side opposite of the femme, was twisted, mangled, and split at the seams with bits of the internals peeking, if not spilling, out. Were Jazz to move his leg too much and too carelessly (not that he was inclined too – any movement at all sent up white hot stabs of agony up his entire leg), he wouldn't be terribly surprised if the appendage fell off completely.

Spike had coined a term for this type of injury, the first time he saw it: "mechanical hamburger meat."

"What, this?" Jazz asked nonchalantly, waving a hand toward his busted ankle. "I've had worse. This is practically nothin', trust me."

He wasn't exaggerating either. Granted it still hurt like the pit, but he had built up an extraordinarily high level of pain tolerance over the centi-vorns. That being said, it didn't mean it was easy to pretend it was no big deal. Anyone who knew him well enough would pick up how his smile was a little too tight, his words a little too short, and his voice just a tad too strained for the ankle injury to be 'nothing'. But the average 'bot would have detected nothing out of the ordinary, let alone a fresh recruit he's never met before.

Not that it mattered. From the look the femme 'Con was giving him, she didn't believe him anyway.

"Right…" she drawled.

She glanced at the ankle, to Jazz, back at the ankle, then up at the ceiling briefly as she cycled a breath of air with what seemed almost like weary resignation.

And now she was kneeling down next to his leg…

"Make one move I don't like and you're head WILL come off," she warned him with a sharp look as Jazz stiffened.

The saboteur considered a comment, decided this wasn't the time to be a smart-aft, and instead kept quiet. He was wary, but he wasn't yet worried. Frankly, for her tough talk he doubted she would be able to shoot someone point blank in cold blood. Didn't mean he would let her take him prisoner quietly though.

Then the long, sharp, claw-like appendages unfurled from behind her shoulders and came to curve forward.

Jazz tensed.

"Relax Autobot," the femme said dryly. "If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be talking right now."

"No, but dead prisoners aren't worth a whole lot," Jazz pointed out.

The femme conceded the point with a bob of her head.

"Fair enough. But that's beside's the point. Just hold still."

The femme kept one optic on Jazz, rifle still trained on him. Meanwhile, her appendages (sensors? Antennae? Claws? What do you call those things?) curled over her shoulders, bending down until one razor sharp point was pricking at his heel and the other just below the knee.

"Just so you know," she said. "Your leg is about to feel a little weird. Try not to freak."

That was all the warning he got before he felt a swift tingling shock from the claw points on his legs. He twitched, but it didn't feel worse than a touch of static electricity, even as it dissipated and spread a tingly sensation across and into his leg. The femme seemed satisfied, and the appendages were lifting to fold back behind her shoulders again, beneath the car hood on her back. Jazz was about to ask what was supposed to happen, but he realized it himself as soon as he thought it.

He couldn't feel his leg. Or rather, he couldn't feel anything beneath his knee, including the pain of the ankle that was still hanging by mere threads.

"Ya cut off the electrical feed t' my leg." He said, faintly impressed.

The femme gave him a mildly surprised look. "Yes, actually. You're actually the first mech I've met I didn't have to explain it to. Congrats, you're not an idiot."

Jazz's reply was cut off by the sound of a couple of heavy metal something's crashing hard. Femme and mech snapped their heads up and around toward the sound, the direction the Lambo twins and the Orange One had disappeared down.

"Oh crap," the femme muttered. She straightened, glanced at Jazz, down the hall, back at Jazz.

"Ya got a choice t' make, femme," Jazz said calmly. "Keep yer prisoner, or save yer teammate. Think fast, before the choice is made for ya."

She frowned. But Jazz could already see the resolve.

Her hand shot out and grabbed Jazz by the chin in a firm grip, pressing his head against the wall and preventing any movement, the rifle still on his head. One appendage came back up, so swift that he barely registered it was coming before it had already tapped the side of his head.

ZIP!

Jazz felt the static crackle through his head, but it was gone in a couple of seconds and he wasn't dead.

"What was that?" he asked, when the femme had let go of him to stand fully again.

"Fritzed out your comm." she answered. "For obvious reasons, I can't have you calling your friends. And one more thing: my name's not 'femme'. It's Ampere. Remember that next time we meet."

With that parting, she took a step back, subspaced her weapon, transformed into a sleek red Maserati (huh, looks like she went a little retro when she picked out the model) and raced down the hall. In just a handful of seconds, she was gone.

Jazz watched her go, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he pondered the femmes strange behavior.

"Yer not a very good Decepticon, y'know, t' leave an Autobot prisoner alive when ya couldn't keep him," Jazz quietly.

He didn't know exactly what was going on, or if Ampere was the only 'odd' one of the Decepticon team down here…but he had a feeling that at the end of this mission, his will only be just beginning.

It was nearly twenty minutes later when Jazz lifted up his head and looked straight at a certain point in the air to his right.

"What took ya so long t' get here 'Raj?" he asked jovially.

The air shimmered as the blue and white noble faded into sight. Mirage didn't bother questioning how Jazz knew he was there; there was a reason why Jazz was head of Special Ops, and after more than a few enlightening and humbling experiences, Mirage had learned to gracefully not question it.

"I was briefly incapacitated by – what happened to your leg?" Mirage exclaimed in horror.

"What, this?" Jazz asked, waving a hand at the limb in casual questioning. "Just stepped the wrong way s'all."

"On what, a mine?" Mirage asked, coming over. He knelt down besides Jazz, still examining the injured ankle.

"Come on, let's get you to Perceptor." He said. "Even if he can't fix it, he should at least know enough to turn off your pain receptors."

"Percy doesn't need t' do anything for me." Jazz said. "I'll take the help, but I'm doin' pretty good actually."

"Sure you are," Mirage answered distractedly. Like Jazz would ever admit to being in excruciating pain. Primus, if it were Mirage, he wouldn't even be able to talk without crying out in pain, let alone keep up a normal paced, if short, conversation.

"Where is our resident scientist, anyway?" Jazz asked as he slung an arm around the Tower mechs shoulder. "I know he ain't with the twins anymore."

"Brawn and Windcharger brought him down to help the twins after they found themselves mysteriously incapacitated," Mirage explained as he helped his CO to his remaining pede. "According to Sideswipe, they were chasing one of the Decepticons down here, someone we've never seen before. At the end of it, they were both left paralyzed. Perceptor is already done with Sideswipe and is working on Sunstreaker right now."

"Ya don't say," Jazz said. "M' comm.'s busted. Anythin' else happened?"

Mirage tilted his head for a few seconds as he thought.

"Yes, actually. Smokescreen just sent a message. He and Tracks have managed to apprehend the orange Decepticon, the one that got away from Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. They will be coming down here shortly."

Jazz frowned thoughtfully. "He say anythin' about a red and yellow femme?"

"No, only the – wait, what? Femme? How do you know about the femme?"

"I'll explain after we get t' the others, okay? Don't wanna have t' repeat myself, y'know."

oOoOoOo

_~ Eight halls away ~_

"I…know you."

Tracks slight sneer dropped into blank surprise.

"Excuse me?"

BRE-EEEP! BRE-EEEP! BRE-EEEP!

Blinding white lights blinked on the ceiling mere seconds before the sprinklers turned on and doused them all with a small monsoon.

"What in the name of Primus?" Tracks exclaimed. Even Smokescreen was shocked for a few seconds by the random turn of events.

That was all the distraction Freerun needed.

The smaller car-former kneed Tracks as hard as he could in the Corvettes pelvis (mainly because he was too short to reach the stomach). Tracks released his grip as he gasped in pain, and Freerun slipped away as quick as water.

Smokescreen shot off a round, but Freerun dropped to his wheels and sped off, spraying water as he cut though the flooding hall. Smokescreen tried to shoot out his tires, but he was no Bluestreak – he hit water twice before Freerun cut into a corner and disappeared around the bend.

Tracks, having recovered from the non-damaging but painful attack, moved to drop into his speedy alt mode. But he was stopped by Smokescreens hand on his shoulder.

"Forget it," the Datsun said. "He outraced the twins. We don't stand a chance of catching him in a flat race."

"You're just going to give up?" Tracks asked incredulously.

"Of course not. I'm just going to be smarter about it."

With that, Smokescreen turned on his comm. to send out a message to every Autobot in the facility.

"Percepter, are Sideswipe and Sunstreaker ready to go yet?"

"_What? Oh, yes, the paralysis was simple enough to reverse. Quite an elegant trick actually, it would seem that the flow of electrons, that is, energy at its most basic, was disrupted by-"_

"Great." Smokescreen interrupted. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Freerun's just broken off. He's heading down corridor H7, almost your way. Move to intercept, he's still holding the generator in his sub-space."

"_There are two others down here, and Optimus only asked for one prisoner. Do we __really__ need the orange one?"_

Smokescreen rolled his optics.

"Yes Sunstreaker. We really need the orange one," he answered dryly. "So you're not allowed to kill him yet, not unless he tries to deactivate you first. Considering how he'd rather run than fight, that doesn't seem too likely. I'd even be willing to bet he doesn't even have a gun."

"_Frag."_

oOoOoOo

"Mechs got all the firepower of a wilted cabbage leaf, but at least he can really book it when he has to," Ampere commented as she watched her teammate blur across the four different security feeds splitting Datums chest screen.

The blue computer-former was sitting against the wall, his wrist cable out and plugged into the security console on the wall, visor dimmed as he hacked through the human's security net. As deep in the system as he was, Datum was vulnerable to an outside attack, and at the mercy of his guardian.

Thankfully, his guardian was invested in keeping him functional.

Ampere hefted her rifle and scanned the long hallway they were in. Still clear, but who knew how long that would last. They had to act quickly, they were too vulnerable where they were, now that their element of surprise was shot to the pit.

"Datum, check the security cameras pointing outside," Ampere ordered. "I want to know what's waiting for us."

"Working on it," Datum answered distractedly. His screen flashed across different cameras as he searched for the one he wanted. Cafeteria, chemical lab, hallway, storage room, another lab, hallway, rooftop, hanger –

Datum's visor flickered brightly as he pulled himself free from the console, as if it had burned him. "Frag!"

"What? What happened?" Ampere demanded.

"There's another hacker in the system," Datum explained. "I almost didn't even notice him until he tried hacking _me_."

"Does he know where we are?"

"Um, yes. Actually, I think I spotted a couple of guys heading our way right now."

Ampere swore softly under her breath, before extending a hand to help the taller Datum to his pedes.

"Then let's hurry up and out of here before the Autobot army falls on our heads."

oOoOoOo

"Looks like that scared him off," Jazz commented lightly as his visor brightened again, signaling his return to the physical world.

"Jazz, I may be in need of your assistance," Perceptor said from his place at a separate computer terminal. "I am having unexpected difficulty in routing the security systems to initial a lockdown and trap the Deceptions before they can do any damage."

He, Jazz, and Mirage had found their way into the facilities main security room, where Jazz had promptly attached himself to one terminal the minute Smokescreen reported the random fire alarm going off in their section, using the system to trace the hack back to the source. As soon as Jazz knew where their little hacker was, he sent the minibots after them before going after the Decepticon himself in the virtual world (he couldn't very well risk allowing him to turn the security systems against his own team, after all). Mirage had elected to stay behind, since Jazz still only had one leg, and Perceptor was, well, Perceptor. His spark would be in the right place, but as Mirage had put it, "you should at least _one_ bot with you who can hit the broad side of a ship."

Perceptor candidly agreed.

"Ya might as well stop tryin', Percy," Jazz suggested. "Our new 'Con hacker locked us out good. By the time we break through his firewall, he'll already be outta here."

"Why didn't he try locking us in when he had the chance?" Mirage wondered.

"Prolly didn't have time. They're runnin' out of place t' hide, and they know it." Jazz explained. "Now they're just plain runnin'. We might as well get out too – not much else we can do now, and the twins and minibots are doin' all the 'ferreting' for us."

oOoOoOo

Going in, the plan had been relatively simple and straightforward: Ampere knocks out the security and takes care of their entry and exit, Datum downloads all research and destroys the originals, and Freerun grabs the Exponential Generator, keeping any remaining humans incapacitated so they couldn't call for help. Quick, quiet, and once they were in, easy to execute. It was even comparatively safe.

Then the Autobots appeared.

Maybe this was what Datum had been referring to back when he was commenting on how 'no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.' Or words to that effect.

Even after the Autobots showed up, there was still a chance for the original mission to be salvaged so long as they avoided a full out fight. Seeing as how two of the three members of this infiltration mission were pretty much useless in a firefight (runners and scientists don't exactly inspire fear and awe on the battle field), that condition was quickly agreed upon. All they had to do now was say the word, send of one quick, measly message, and the cavalry swoop in and make big booms while they sneaked off in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, being in an underground and highly fortified lab limited radio contact to the outside world. Meaning Freerun needed to last long enough to get topside to contact Soundwave, and avoid capture and/or death until then.

'_We're a super advanced machine race _built_ from cutting edge technology millennia ahead of anything humans have!' _Freerun ranted to himself as he ran down the hall._ 'Why is simple stuff like this still a __problem__?!'_

And then Freeruns day got a little bit worse.

"Hey, there you are!" an already familiar if not welcome voice called out cheerfully.

Thirty feet down the hall, the red fighter from before had stepped out with the Harbinger of Yellow Death right behind him. While Red (Sideswipe, right?) looked far too pleased in a predatory sort of way, his brother was far less happy - his gun was already leveled to his chest area and finger on the trigger and not looking particularly concerned if the shot killed him or not, whatever his orders might have been.

Freerun had nowhere to turn, no time to run back, no cover to take, and less than a second to react before he had a very big unhelpful hole in his person and he was still running full tilt right AT the loaded gun, which four out of five doctors agree is most stupid.

Fortunately, Freerun was very good at thinking fast on his feet. Or if not actually thinking, per se, then at least reacting.

Half an instant before the plasma blast would have made him all nice and crispy, Freerun fell back into a slide worthy of the major leagues, his momentum and the smooth floor being just enough to carry him right under and past the wonder twins ("Quit stalking me already!"), and before he could come to a full stop he flexed and jumped back to his feet, the pistons in his heels working overtime as he made the last great dash for the exit and freedom, banking heavily on the vaunted traditional Autobot honor that wouldn't allow them to shoot a fleeing enemy in the back.

PSEEW! PSEEW!

Freerun swiftly learned that Sunstreaker did not possess the traditional Autobot honor.

"GAH!" Freerun yelped as he ducked his head, nearly tripping over himself in the process. What the frack was WRONG with these people? And at what point did he get a cosmic sign on his back that said 'shoot me'?!

Sunstreaker was lining up for one last shot while the Orange One was still exposed in the long hallway...but was stopped by his orange sighting being replaced by red.

"What are you doing Sideswipe?!" He demanded furiously at his brothers retreating back.

"Catching the 'Con!" he answered back cheerfully. "If we're only gonna catch one, I want it to be _this_ one. He's too much fun to scrap!"

"It wouldn't have _killed_ him; just kept him down for the next few hours," Sunstreaker shot back in defense of his actions. But it was too late – brother and prey were already out of hearing range and not particular caring to listen otherwise. Sunstreaker took a calming moment to remind himself that he _did_ love his brother, and no, he didn't actually want to throttle him no matter how tempting it was at that very moment, before growling and running after them both.

: : Freerun, are you okay? : :

: : Kinda busy right now Datum! : : The orange carformer transmitted back as he kicked off the wall for a turn – a wall which summarily gained a new door via blaster shots.

: : How close are you to the exit? : : Datum asked, or rather demanded.

Freerun made note of the sloping floor and the drab grey cement walls that replaced the white halls of the facility proper, along with the trucking lanes to the side and raised platforms for unloading and shipping.

: : I'm in the loading bay now. : : Freerun answered as he slid under a half closed door. : : I'll be out in thirty seconds tops. Something I need to know first? : :

: : Just a little, yeah. : :

Before he knew it, the dark cavern like bay brightening with natural light, and dark grey sheet metal above him came to an end just a few dozen yards ahead, the sloping cement floor and curved metal ceiling surrounding bright blue sky. Just seeing it made Freeruns spark pulse with joy and excitement.

Unbeknownst to him, beyond the slopes rise, Wheeljack had received Sideswipes warning and had the Stunner primed and ready, his finger on a hair trigger just waiting for the vibrant flash of orange.

The instant he saw it, the engineer pressed the trigger button.

The rotund machine hummed and rose in pitch until it hit its peak and shot out a bright white beam straight at the orange Decepticon square in its sights.

But forewarned is forearmed, after all.

Freerun had never even seen the device or the coming danger. If he had relied solely on his own reflexes, he would have been caught in the beam and captured for sure. But with Datums warning of the welcoming party, the last thing he had been able to catch before Jazz chased him out of the system, Freerun just had to trust in his teammate. Step step into the hanger proper, and in the same moment it took Wheeljack to see him and pressed the trigger, Freerun bunched his legs tensed the pistons in this heels and _leaped_ straight up in the air, catching hold of the rafters nearly twice his height above him and swinging his legs up and out of the way, just as the bright white beam passed harmlessly beneath him.

His surprised pursuers were slightly less lucky.

BZ-ZAAP!

Sideswipe had just enough time to think _'Not AGAIN!'_ before he fell back like a felled tree right alongside Sunstreaker.

Outside, Wheeljack, Ironhide, Bluestreak, and Optimus took a moment to stare dumbly at the unexpected turn of events.

"Well. At least we know the paralyzing part works fine," Wheeljack said weakly.

Inside, from his perch on the underside of the ceiling, Freerun craned his neck to stare down at the prone twins beneath him.

"Would you mind terribly if I proceeded to laugh at your expense right now?" he asked in mock politeness, a struggling grin ruining his straight face.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, once again being unable to move, chose not to comment.

Freerun twisted his head around again as he heard the sound of approaching pedes, heavy ones too he'd wager. Most likely Ironhide, since he was the second biggest and (he's been warned repeatedly) one of the most aggressive. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Okay, he had three choices: 1) stay right where he was and hoped he could on tighter than the 'Bots could pry him off, 2) jump off and run right back into the facility where there were lots of places to hide, or 3) jump off and run out into the open and turn into the most conspicuous target that ever existed in recent history.

Option 1 would get him captured for sure. Option 2 would get him captured for sure a little later than sooner, especially since there was nowhere else to run and the other Autobots may be on their way as well – he might as well have been jumping right into their arms and gleefully saying 'catch me!'

Which pretty much only left one option.

Ironhide stalled in his advance just briefly as the new Decepticon (and he had NOT been expecting for the new guy to be so _small_!) dropped down right in front of him into a crouch right between the twins, matching the pair surprisingly well with their bright colors and black highlights.

"Nice t'meetcha seeya buh-bye!" Freerun said quickly as he took off like a bullet right by Ironhide and out into the wide open outdoors.

Predictably, he already had shots peppering behind him.

"I thought you guys were all peaceful and junk!" Freerun shouted as he ran a circle around them, trying to stay out of a direct line of fire.

But at least he was out of the facility, with nothing to impede communications to anyone not in the immediate vicinity. One quick data burst was all he needed. Of course, even if he hadn't had the presence of mind to do that, the eye in the sky far above them all could clearly see the brightly colored Decepticon running around like a mad man on the ground, and was transmitting the data to his master now.

oOoOoOo

Ampere caught the edge of the door as she ran past and swung her taller teammate in side, the momentum sending Datum into a sprawl on the floor with an undignified yelp. Ampere didn't waste time with apologies; the moment the automatic doors slid shut, the wicked curved appendages that folded into her back came up and stabbed downward with deadly precision into the human level keypad. A burst of energy was all that was needed to exploded it and lock the doors from the inside, keeping the pursuing Autobots firmly on the wrong side.

Only then, with a few minutes of bought time, did Ampere take a moment to see where exactly she had landed them: a mid-sized storage room with no other exits except for the one she had just sealed.

Lovely.

"Datum, how much time do you think we have before they bust their way in here?" she asked, feeling around the door and gauging its strength. At least it was nice and heavy, it would buy some time. Maybe.

Datum frowned as he pulled up the files he had downloaded on all the Autobots on Earth and their known information. The pensive expression did nothing to reassure Ampere of their chances.

"The ones who chased us in here, Smokescreen and Tracks, they're not going to be able to get that door down anytime soon by themselves," Datum started. "Neither of them has a whole lot of firepower or brute strength. But if either of the minibots get here, we'll only have maybe a minute or two tops, if we're lucky."

"What's so bad about the minibots?" Ampere asked.

"From what I got of Freeruns description, the ones he saw were Brawn and Windcharger. Brawn is easily the physically strongest Autobot outside of the gestalts, and Windcharger has the ability to energize his arms to create a powerful electromagnet capable of ripping metal to shreds at a close distance. Either one of them could take that door apart like it's made of hot grease."

"Great. We can't hope to win a fight against _all_ of them, and we have nowhere else to go."

Datum eyed the supplies around them with a critical optic, the gears already turning furiously.

"Then we make a way."

oOoOoOo

"'_Raj, I needja t' check out that room over there. Saw something a bit odd when I was in the system, I want it checked out before we go."_

'That room over there' was an inconspicuous double door, large for a human but not even reaching Mirage's middle, and certainly too small for convenient access for a full sized Cybertronian. But orders were orders, and you never knew what could happen. Primus, for all they knew one of the 'Cons had hidden a bomb in there to bury them all alive the klick they were out of the danger zone.

With great care, and his gun up, Mirage pressed his fingers into the crack between the doors, the metal bending easily under his force. He paused a moment, then in one swift motion he pulled the doors away and jumped back in case something, or someone, tried to attack him.

Nothing happened.

He approached slowly again, cautiously, until something Cassette-sized came out and Mirage whipped his gun around at…the highly dangerous human male in a white lab coat, staring into a gun muzzle almost half as long as he was tall and looking about ready to faint.

"Don't shoot!" he cried out, throwing his hands up.

"What are you doing here?" Mirage asked, lowering his weapon.

"Um, I'm part of the Agricultural Technologies Team; we pretty much focus on making farms more efficient with less land and fewer chemicals by implementing-"

"No, I mean, what are you doing in that locked room?" Mirage corrected with a tinge of annoyance. Almost as an afterthought he added "Put your hands down already, I'm not going to shoot you."

"Oh, right," the human said, complying. "Um, when the Decepticons got here, they messed with the security systems first. We didn't even know they were here until the red female one started rounding us up. At least, I guess she's female. She LOOKED female, according to human aesthetics anyway, but I'm not entirely sure how gender works for alien robots. What that an actual female, or just…I don't know, something else? I've always wondered, but I never really had the nerve to ask Perceptor about it when he came by."

Mirage stared at the odd, rambling human. He made a mental note to talk to Ratchet if extreme stress caused human brains to crash much like Prowls CPU did occasionally on a bad day.

"Um, yeah, bad time to ask, I guess," the human continued awkwardly, wringing his hands together. "Anyway, the red…Decepticon gathered us all up and hustled us in here, 'for our safety' she said, I think. My name's Michael, by the way."

"Mirage," the aristocrat introduced himself with a slight inclination of his head. He glanced at the doorway, and noticed several other humans were starting to edge out, as if torn between coming out to see him or staying in where it was 'safe'.

"How many others are being held captive in there?" Mirage asked. "Are there any injured?

"Fifteen, actually, just about everyone," Michael answered. "And nobody's hurt. That female Decepticon didn't really do anything, except picking up and carrying a couple of us who were, um, a bit too overwhelmed to do much of anything. After she got everyone in here, she kind of did a headcount before locking the door from the outside. I guess she was making sure she didn't miss anyone."

Mirage made a curt nod.

"Fifteen people. That matches our count for humans scheduled to be here today. That saves us a lot of trouble. We'll need you to stay in here for the time being though, until the Decepticons are gone and it's safe for you to leave again."

"Wait! We're missing one!" Michael said hurriedly with a hint of panic. Mirage stared at the panicky human male.

"You just said all fifteen of you were in there." He said flatly.

"There are fifteen of us. But that's not everyone."

Mirage gave him a startled look.

"Fifteen people were scheduled to come in today, that's true," Michael explained. "But we had an extra person today: Dr. Harold Cunning, the man in charge of the Reverse Engineering Department. He wasn't supposed to come in today, but he was concerned about the newest project since it's in a bit of a tricky stage, and he wanted to be nearby in case something went wrong. Come to think of it, he's probably the one who called you guys. We don't exactly have a phone in there, you see, and since the female didn't know about the extra, I don't think anybody bothered to look for him after she got her quota."

"Are you telling me we have an unaccounted human running around somewhere in this facility?"

"Um, yeah, I guess I am."

"…Does he at least have enough sense to find a safe place to hide and stay there, or is he more the type to run around thinking he can help and making a nuisance of himself?"

"Um….well, actually…"

Mirage sighed. "Of course. Wouldn't want to make it too easy for me, would we?"

"Sorry."

oOoOoOo

Freerun, as it should have been made painfully obvious by now, was not much of a fighter. He'll defend himself, and he'll eat his own pedes before surrendering, but put him in a one on one fight and nine time out of ten he'll get totally scrapped – the downside of being lightly armored and slight of build. But, it should also be just as obvious that he hadn't been designed with frontal assaults in mind. His purpose was to get from Point A to Point B without being caught, captured, or shot at, and without losing whatever precious cargo he was delivering at the time…such as an experimental Exponential Generator.

Put simply, he wasn't made to fight. He was made to get away.

While his ability to avoid capture is already slightly questionable ("I was blindsided! It doesn't count!" he would later argue), he was now proving that when it came to avoiding being shot, he was very, very good at it.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Bits of cement and dust spewed up from every missed shot, each one as little as a foot behind Freerun. The runner kept going, his body low to the ground as he ran, circled, and even flipped over a white van in his way. No matter where Ironhide shot at, Freerun always managed to stay just a step ahead of him. There was nowhere for him to hide, especially when a frustrated Ironhide started actively chasing him around the compound, but there were a lot of places to run, and Freerun didn't look like he was tiring any time soon.

Meanwhile, Optimus had kept busy by carrying Sunstreaker and Sideswipe out of the hanger to where Wheeljack and Bluestreak were, so that the former could hopefully undo the effects of the Stunner.

"Why doesn't he just take off?" Bluestreak wondered as the red and orange mechs between a set of buildings, Freerun running alongside the wall to gain a bit more ground and put a big piece of cement between them.

"It would leave him too exposed," Optimus explained calmly as he settled Sideswipe down next to his brother. "He's not a jet, there are no other distractions, and his anti-grav thrusters won't get him away fast enough. At least on the ground he has cover."

"Oh."

Freerun was using every trick in the book to stay ahead and Not-Shot; zig zags, leaps, sharp turns, double backs, all meant to keep the Big Red Guy With A Gun from getting a bead on him and keeping him just disoriented enough to keep from catching him. Freerun was feeling pretty good about his chances. He just had to last a little while longer, he just knew it, until Datum and Ampere got out and they could all escape together, since no way in the Pit was he going to leave any of them behi-

**BANG**!

White hot pain laced up Freerun leg from his ankle, and he fell hard with a howl of agony. He pulled up his knee and curled into himself, the pain was just so bad. He tried to see the damage, and could tell that his ankle had been shot at. Judging from the look Ironhide was giving him, he hadn't been the one to make the crippling blow.

"Good shot, Bluestreak," Wheeljack complimented the sharpshooter, taking a moment out of examining Sideswipe.

Freerun glanced up as he heard Ironhide approaching. As quickly as he could he shuffled backwards, keeping his injured ankle up in the air as he scooted back away from the approaching Autobot.

"Stay back, or I'll shoot!" he blurted as his back hit the wall.

"With what?" Ironhide asked, unimpressed. "Kid, I don't know why ya decided to come out unarmed, but if ya had any kind o' gun on ya, ya would've used it a long time ago."

Freerun couldn't exactly argue the point.

He pressed himself up against the wall as if trying to meld with it even as the Autobot closed the distance. This was it, there was no escaping now. No last minute saves from Datum, no timely appearance by Ampere, nothing. He hated it, he hated how he failed the mission, and he hated it even more that he failed his teammates. If only he hadn't daddled, if only he had focused more on getting away from the facility, maybe if he had gotten on one of the rooftops he could have been safe.

But no, he had to be stupid and get caught.

He pushed himself up against the wall so that he was at least standing, expression firm, and body tense and ready. Well, even if he was stuck, he wasn't about to give up so easily. He'll stuff his bad leg up this crickety old relics aft if he had too, but Ironhide was not going to take him in without the fight of his life.

But before either Autobot or Decepticon could do anything, one last timely appearance arrived.

PSEW! PSEW! PSEW!

Ironhide stumbled back as laser fire peppered the ground between them, seconds before a black and red condor swooped between them, turning back around and strafing Ironhide, forcing the mech back away from Freerun.

"Lazorbeak!" Freerun exclaimed, and he had never been so happy to see the bird.

Ironhide tried to shoot the bird, but Freerun had one last trick up his sleeve.

He lunged forward and brought his hand, and fired.

From a small nozzle above his wrist, a spray of corrosive acid spewed out, right into Ironhides face. The red mech howled in pain and tried to wipe his face of the substance, stumbling back even more until he tripped and fell. Freerun used this chance to hobble away as fast as possible, hopping on his good leg. The acid wasn't potent enough to kill, and wouldn't even cause permanent damage if it was washed off reasonably soon. But it was freakishly painful and would keep Ironhide from following.

Up in the sky, Freerun could hear the sweetest sound he could have ever heard. The Autobots heard it too, and were a lot less thrilled.

"Optimus, we've got Seekers coming in!"

oOoOoOo

When Perceptor and Jazz (followed shortly by Mirage) made it to the hanger entrance, the sight that greeted them was less than encouraging. Optimus and Bluestreak were on either side of Wheeljack with what looked like the prone forms of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker on the ground, with Ironhide nowhere in sight. Wheeljack was bent over Sideswipe, Bluestreak was taking potshots at the Seekers, and Optimus kept messing up the Seekers formations by shooting the Stunner at the middle of their groups and swinging the arc around, forcing them to disperse, but the flyers were too fast to get caught in the beam itself. On top of that, Megatron was watching the whole thing looking entirely too smug, and if the static in their audios was any indication Soundwave was in the vicinity as well messing with their communications.

The first thing Jazz thought was _'Well this went to the pit in a hand basket pretty quick.'_

The first thing Jazz said was "Mirage, get out of sight and get some of those Seekers out of the sky. Perceptor, just set me down here, and you focus on getting' out t' the perimeter. If you can find a safe place to hunker down and take a few potshots, take it, but don't try t' be a hero."

"I can't just leave you here alone!" Perceptor exclaimed.

"Ya can't be dragged down by me, and Mirage will do a lot more good out there than playin' babysitter fer me," Jazz reasoned. "Just go, I'll be fine."

Mirage faded from sight as he activated his invisibility cloak, already following his superior's orders. Perceptor hesitated briefly, before ducking out of the hanger and disappearing from view. Jazz leaned against the wall, gun in hand and scanning the newest battlefield. Most of the Decepticons were too busy with their assault to notice him, but as soon as he started firing, he'd give away his position. He'd have to make his shots count, especially with the battle as one-sided as it was at the moment.

Fortunately, it didn't stay that way.

With an engine roar the Command Trines formation was broken by an insane white jet that had dived down right through the center of their group, yelling colorful insults along the way. Starscream was right on his tail, but the rest of Slingshots gestalt mates were quick to arrive, each going after a different jet and making it impossible for them to coordinate as well as before. Even as he watched, Wheeljack sat back to let Sideswipe jump up and practically dive into the fight the instant he was mobile again, pausing just long enough to pat Bluestreak on the shoulder as he passed. Wheeljack was already working on getting Sunstreaker back up as well.

Jazz grinned. The playing field had gotten a little more even.

oOoOoOo

With a mighty shove, Ampere pushed the biggest, heaviest crate in the room against the door in an attempt to blockade it. A useless endeavor, probably, but she had to feel like she was doing _something_, instead of just sitting and waiting for the Autobots to break their way in or for Datum to finish whatever it was he was doing, whichever happened first. From the muffled sounds on the other side of the door, Ampere had a sinking feeling it was going to be the former.

"Not to rush you or anything Datum, but anytime you want to pull that miracle of yours out of your aft would be fantastic," Ampere said.

"Now now Ammy, these things must not be rushed." Datum said far too calmly. The taller mech had been leaning over his little project in the corner for the past ten minutes now, hands in constant motion and grabbing seemingly random objects that happened to be within reach, his body blocking the view and preventing Ampere from seeing what he was constructing.

Ampere felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation in her denta. She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked back at the door in dread. The heavy metal door gave a creaking groan as it began to bend outward, as if it were being sucked outwards by a vacuum…or a powerful electromagnet, if the tingling sensation was any indication.

"Got it!" Datum called out triumphantly.

He shot up to his pedes and moved to the back of the room. As Ampere split her attention between her teammate and the failing barrier, Datum spread malleable plastic he had dug up somewhere against the edge of the ceiling where it met the wall. He then firmly pressed a (comparatively) small device that strongly resembled an exploded remote into the plastic. From one end of the device, he unraveled long, curled up red wires with exposed ends, carefully straightening them out as he stepped back.

Ampere could smell the ozone thickening as the stubborn door kept bending out as it nearly screamed under the pressure.

"Datum…"

"Duck down Ammy, I'm not sure how big this is going to be."

"_You don't _know_??"_

"Less yelling more ducking please."

oOoOoOo

What had started as a small and hopefully quiet/painless operation (at least, that's the gist _he_ had gotten about it) had erupted into a full blown battle: Optimus and Megatron were going one-on-one again, the Command Trine was keeping busy with the Arielbots in the air, the Coneheads had landed to focus on the ground-bound Autobots (seeing how it's hard enough to fight an enemy in the sky AND avoid fire from the ground, so you might as well divide and conquer), Soundwave had melted into the shadows for Mysterious Purposes, and his cassettes were running around causing general havoc and looking far too happy about it.

And Doctor Harold Cunning was just a bit too close to the madness for comfort.

The 52 year old human hid behind the dumpster, occasionally peeking out at the compound that had become a battlefield before his eyes. At least none of the buildings had been destroyed, but he wasn't placing bets on how long that was going to last.

He ducked down again as the corner of the building was blown away, and nearly cried out in pain as he rested too heavily on the wrong leg.

After the Decepticons had showed up, Harold had managed to slip away long enough to send out the distress signal to the Autobots. Unable to do anything else to help the others, he hurried for the surface exits, hoping to intercept the Autobots and provide whatever Intel he could. Unfortunately, he ran too fast, slipped, and badly sprained his ankle. He could barely even walk now, and had to settle for finding a place to hide until it all blew over.

It just so happened he picked a really bad place to do it.

He yelped as one of the Autobots was thrown into the side of the building, only for him to brush it off and run right back into the thick of it. Okay, if he stayed where he was, there was a better than average chance he'll end up as collateral damage. If he tried to move somewhere else, there was an even higher chance he'd be killed by someone taking a bad step. But then again, if he survived the trip, he could reach the perimeter and assured safety…IF he could make it.

Harold briefly considered getting one of the Autobots attentions, but discarded the idea almost immediately. His distraction could easily lead to one of them getting killed, and he would NOT have their lives on his hands. Then again, that still left him with choosing between Bad and Worse and trying to figure out which is which while watching Dirge and Sideswipe grapple with each other ("You're doing it wrong," he muttered).

His wife was right. He really should have just taken the day off.

oOoOoOo

Ampere abandoned her post by the door and hurried to the corner, crouching down and covering her head with her arms. Datum finished unraveling the wires quickly but carefully and crouched right next to her, each wire in hand and with his back to the opposite side of the room. He paused briefly, gathering his nerve for what he was about to do (because this was a desperate move and slag if he didn't know how badly it could go wrong if he crossed the wrong wires).

Ampere's servo appeared, laying gently on his own. Their optics met briefly, saying all she needed to say – she trusted him.

"Fire in the hole," Datum said softly, and crossed the wires.

The door fell away with a mighty crash just as the storage room filled with deafening noise and blinding light.

oOoOoOo

A plume of smoke and dust exploded upwards practically under Sideswipes feet with a deafening blast Harold felt in his teeth. Dirge let go immediately and hopped into the air like a startled bird, leaving the shocked Sideswipe to windmill his arms and tumbled backwards into the blast hole that swallowed him up completely.

oOoOoOo

Sideswipe landed heavily on his back, his legs up against the wall so he was partially upside down, staring up at blue sky through the jagged hole in the ceiling. Before he could gather his wits, someone's pede planted itself in the middle of his chest and kicked off. Sideswipe gasped in surprise and pain as Datum passed a quick "Excuse me!" as he flew up through the new skylight. He was swiftly followed by Ampere, who followed his example and also used the downed Sideswipe as a springboard, this time calling a quick "Coming through!"

oOoOoOo

Harold watched a blue mech with a red visor, one of the Decepticons who had invaded the facility earlier, floated up out of the hole that had swallowed up Sideswipe. He was followed by the red and yellow femme that had taken the rest of his co-workers.

(Unlike Michael, Harold hadn't been as shy about asking Perceptor a purely academic question about Cybertronian genders. So he knew what a femme was.)

The femme pulled out a rifle and was already running into the fight to cover for Thrust, while the blue mech pulled out what looked like a pistol, throwing out a few shots to cover his own retreat. Dirge landed at the edge of the hole to finish off Sideswipe, until he was forced back by a barrage of fire that no single mech could have produced.

This time, it was Autobots who were practically erupting from underground – Tracks, Smokescreen, Brawn, Windcharger, and even an annoyed looking Sideswipe with a badly scuffed chest. Harold had to wonder, just where the heck were all these robots coming from??

That was it. The battle was getting too big. Sooner or later it was going to spill over to him and there would be no escape. Busted ankle or no, he did NOT survive Vietnam to die because he just sat around!

As soon as there was a little break in the fighting closest to him, Harold made a run for it.

Datum spotted the small, white coated figure hobbling away as fast as he could, staying close to the wall and using it for support so he could go just a little bit faster.

'_What is he doing?' _he wondered incredulously. _'He's going to get killed!'_

Well, no matter. Datum didn't have time to think about one humans lack of common sense. He had to find Freerun and make sure they got away with the Generator AND the data. A bit of a pity the human was going to die, sure, but ultimately it was irrelevant.

Ramjet, in a fit of excitement, grabbed the white van Freerun had leaped over earlier and hurled it at the distracted Wheeljack and Bluestreak, only for it to be deflected in midflight by Windchargers magnets and hastily cast aside, rolling and tumbling fast across the ground from the added momentum…with Harold right in its path.

Datum never even made a decision. One moment he was seeing the human about to be crushed by the thrown van, the next his body was moving, dashing across the short distance to slip in to a slide right next to the human scientist, crouching over him and bracing for impact against the wall.

None came.

Two shots – POW! POW! – and a heavy, almost simultaneous, crash, but Datum and the terrified human were unharmed. The Decepticon glanced back behind him, wondering what had just happened. The van was there, heavily dented and damaged and laying impotently on its side a little ways away and off to the side, with two smoking holes from the fired shots.

Datum didn't have time to ponder his savior. He just scooped up the human and hurriedly carried him behind the building, dropping him to the ground a little more roughly than he needed to, if the humans cry of pain was any indication (honestly, he just barely escaped being crushed to death, what was he doing complaining about a little pain?).

"Get out of here. Humans have no place in our battles," Datum ordered him curtly.

The human just stared up at him as he stood again, shocked and confused by the turn of events.

"Why did you…"

He never got to chance to finish his question. The Decepticon had already left.

Across the compound, Jazz's gun was still warm from the two shots that forced the van off its collision course, the saboteur himself with a serious expression.

So. Looks likes Ampere wasn't the only odd one in her group.

The battle had started off heavily into the Decepticons favor (13 'Cons, if you counted the cassettes versus 4 'Bots), balanced off toward something more even (15 'Cons versus 13 'Bots), and now leaned slightly more in the Autobots favor (15 'Cons versus 18 'Bots), then a little to the Decepticons again (15 'Cons and '16 bots when a lucky maneuver forced two of the Arielbots down). For once, the battle was not decided by force or tactics or cunning, but by three soft spoken words to the Decepticon leader over the comm.

: : Mission Objective: Accomplished. : :

Megatron toyed with the idea of staying long enough to wreck destruction on the facility and leave a message to the stupid, arrogant humans for thinking they could take their technology, and to the Autobots for being foolish enough to allow it…but decided the (richly deserved and thoroughly enjoyable) message wasn't worth it now. The Generator was far too important to loose, and contrary to Autobot popular belief (and Starscream), he didn't become and remain leader of the Decepticons by being stupid.

Megatron shoved Optimus off and back off with a sneer. "This Battle is over, Prime. You lose. Decepticons, fall back!"

All across the compound, the Decepticons were breaking off their fights and taking flight, Soundwave gathering up his cassettes into this chest, Datum assisting Freerun into the air with Ampere joining them.

Wheeljack wasn't about to give up though. He already successfully tested the Paralysis function of the Stunner (and apologized profusely to the twins for it), but he still had to test the Lock, as promised. With that in mind, Wheeljack swung the barrel around at the retreating Starscream and fired.

But instead of hitting the Decepticon 2iC, Thundercracker chose that moment to fly past and accidentatlly intercepted the beam. The blue Seeker jerked violently as the white energy engulfed his body and he was halted in mid air. He cried out, more in shock than actual pain, which if nothing else got the attention of his trine mates. Starscream and Skywarp circled back around, but were chased off by the Arielbots weapon fire.

Ampere halted her retreat when she heard the commotion behind her, taking in the blocked Starscream and Skywarp, Wheeljack's device, and Thundercracker being lowered to the ground.

Before she had too much time to think about it (and ignoring Datums 'what are you doing?!'), Ampere cut her anti-grav thrusters and fell the short way back to the ground. She fell into a crouch, leaned forward as she hit the ground with one hand, and unfurled and flared the feeler like appendages from her back, electricity crackling across the length of them before they released a powerful EMP blast.

Everyone close enough felt a tingling up their spinal struts and static in their denta that was weird and downright unpleasant, but were otherwise unharmed. The Stunner didn't get off so easily.

The machine fritzed and exploded in Wheeljacks face in an impressively bright display that knocked the sooty inventor backwards. The machine itself was utterly devastated into bite sized pieces. Freed, Thundercracker peeled away and chased after the rest of the Decepticons. Ampere jumped into the air away from the approaching Tracks and Mirage, so close that Tracks hand brushed against her ankle as she flew away.

The Autobots could do little more than watch the retreating Decepticons, taking the prototype Exponential Generator and all of the human's research with them.

oOoOoOo

Wheeljack wasn't seriously hurt by the explosion. Mostly he was just a bit singed and disoriented by the bright light. He was still able to help with repairs when they took account of the damage, including putting Jazz's ankle in a brace to keep it from moving too much before they were able to take him to Ratchet.

"What happened to your leg?!" Bluestreak exclaimed, hovering over the 3iC and anxiously twitching his doorwings.

"'S not as bad as it looks, Blue," Jazz answered the gunner with a smile. "I can't even feel it."

"He's right," Wheeljack said, surprised. "All the circuits in your lower leg have been shut off. Did Perceptor do that?"

"Eh, not exactly," Jazz answered vaguely.

Meanwhile, Optimus was speaking to Dr. Cunning, after the humans own ankle had been wrapped by the nurse on duty.

"I offer my most sincere apologies," Optimus said feelingly. "We were unable to stop the Decepticons from taking your work."

"Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed, but right now I'm just glad no one was seriously hurt," Harold said. "It's a huge setback, true, and unless we manage to dig up the original plans somewhere, we might never recover from this. Still, it could have been much worse. At least they didn't take anything that was really dangerous."

Optimus reared back slightly in surprise. "The Exponential Generator would potentially give the Decepticons a near unlimited source of power, or cause massive devastation if mishandled. How is that not dangerous?"

Now it was Harold's turn to look surprised. "Didn't Perceptor tell you?"

Optimus flashed to the absent minded microscope who often forgot that the vast majority of those around him didn't know as much as he did.

"What should he have told us?" he asked evenly.

Harold ran a hand through his thinning hair, looking a little awkward now. "Well, we were working on Dr. Archevilles original schematics, trying to improve on his design so the generator would be safer and more efficient. However…"

oOoOoOo

_~ On the Nemesis ~_

"WHAT DO YOU **MEAN** IT _DOESN'T WORK_!?"

Megatron blowing a gasket and one wrong word away from inflicting great violence wasn't anything new to Thundercracker – he saw as much at least a few times a week. The part with Starscream standing on the sidelines rather than at the center of said explosion…well, that was something different. Thundercracker glanced at his Trine leader, wondering what he might think of this. Said Seeker busy was watching the exchange with a mix of smugness and curiosity, having not had many opportunities to see this exchange from an outsider's perspective.

Datum almost took a step back from Megatron, but managed to hold his ground as he continued. He could have almost fooled Thundercracker into believing he wasn't scared witless of the enraged gunformer.

"The, the Generator, in order to keep functioning, has to use at least 95% of the very power it generates just to stay operational. If we tried to amp it up so the excess 5% will be of a usable quantity for us, it'll destabilize the internal core and set off a chain reaction that will turn it into a bomb. The Autobots and humans had been working on a way to make the Generator safer and more efficient, and it's still a fantastic experiment, but at its safest level it can't produce enough excess energy in a week to refine into a single cube of high grade."

Of course Starscream, being Starscream, couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Congragulations, oh Mighty Leader," he sneered. "For the same effort we put into stealing the stupid human project, we might as well have built our own _windmill_ and gotten more out of it!"

Starscream was already ducking as the fusion blast shot above his head. Thundercracker and Skywarp hadn't even bothered to move. Megatrons aim was better than that.

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," the Warlord growled.

The three newcomers watched the High Command and the almost casual display of insubordination and violence with a mix of shock and horror, not yet having been exposed long enough to the…unique dynamics to be desensitized to it. At least Datum had the sense to school his features before Megatron turned his attention to him again.

"How long until you complete the project then?" he asked.

If Datum had visible optics, he would have shuttered them.

"With all due respect, sir, _no one_ can finish the project. The theory behind the Exponential Generator is fairly sound, but the technology to make it work just does not exist, pure and simple."

"'Does not exist'?" Megatron repeated dangerously. "The Generator has already been built, twice in fact. We went through a great deal of trouble so that your team could retrieve the second one. It looks like it exists to me."

"The first one was unstable and dangerous. The second one is little more than an expensive science project, something that'd be used as a gimmick to get more funding! If the technology existed to make the Generator feasible, someone Cybertron would have invented it already!"

As soon as he said it, Datum and everyone else knew he had gone too far.

Megatron swung his cannon around and aimed it dead center at the frozen scientist.

On the other side of the room, Freerun and Ampere tensed, glancing between Megatrons gun, their teammate, and the rest of the Decepticons. Whether they planned to tackle Datum to the ground, tackle Megatron, or jump in to take the blast couldn't be determined, only that they were ready to intervene if things got too out of hand.

For several long, tense seconds, the tension thickened until it was nearly suffocating.

"Watch your words, Scientist," Megatron warned, saying the word 'scientist' like it was a filthy insult in and of itself. "Otherwise, I might decide your skills don't outweigh your mouth."

It wasn't until Megatron lowered his gun, dismissed everyone, and left the room that Ampere and Freerun relaxed.

Thundercracker watched the newcomers interact, the femme and the runner coming to either side of the shaken scientist in an odd display of open camaraderie. They were a peculiar bunch, and strangely naïve to Decepticon ways. But then, they had been training under Shockwave while the bulk of the Decepticon army was in stasis, and with only that walking calculator as a reference it couldn't really be expected they'd fit perfectly into the Decepticon cultural mold right off the boat.

It reminded the blue Seeker of the first time he met the trio, just a little less than two weeks earlier.

_The Welcoming Party, as Skywarp had dubbed it, consisted of Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave (and by extension the cassettes he carried with him), Skywarp and himself. Thundercracker could understand why the Command Element was there, and why the Gestalt leaders were left on the base – someone had to keep the notoriously unruly soldiers in line – but the purpose behind his and Skywarp being ordered to come was lost on him. _

_All pondering ceased the moment the warp gate opened and Thundercracker got his first look at the 'reinforcements.' There were three of them: an orange and black mech with elevated heels who looked far too much like an Autobot for comfort, a red and yellow femme who looked more suited for the vids than the front lines, and a blue mech with a screen on his chest who was at least a head taller than either of the first two…which almost put him level with Thundercrackers chin._

_Suffice to say, they didn't exactly inspire awe. Thundercracker was already getting a sinking feeling, because if this was Shockwaves idea of sending reinforcements, then they were all completely slagged._

_Megatron then stepped forward to them, all impressive and immediately capturing everyone's attention. From the looks on the femme and two mechs faces, they were already well aware of who he is._

"_State your designations, your functions, and swear your allegiance to me here and now," Megatron ordered._

_The femme, the apparent ringleader, squared her shoulders and came up first._

"_Ampere, Tracker and Saboteur. My skills are at your command, Lord Megatron."_

_The blue mech. "Datum, Science Officer. I serve Lord Megatron."_

_The orange mech. "Freerun, Supply Officer. Tell me what you want, and if it exists, I'll get it for ya before the Autobots even know I'm there!"_

_Thundercracker snuck a look at his Trinemates, wondering if they were as underwhelmed as he was. Starscream was watching the new arrivals with an expression of smug annoyance only he could pull off (which confused Thundercracker – what did he have to be smug OR annoyed about?), while Skywarp…_

"_Now THAT is what I call a hot little number!" the purple Seeker said excitedly in a thankfully quite voice, elbowing the blue one in the side and looking far too gleeful, like a youngling with a present._

_Thundercracker raised an optic ridge and glanced back at the oblivious trio. "Who, the femme or the runner?"_

"_Yes."_

_Thundercracker rolled his optics at his friend's shamelessness. Figures that be the first thing he'd think of when seeing raw recruits for the first time. He wondered if he should pass on a warning for them keep an eye out for the less than subtle Skywarp for the near future. _

"_Excellent." Megatron was saying. "Starscream, your trine is to take the recruits to scan suitable alt modes. Don't come back until it's done."_

"_WHAT!" Starscream exclaimed as Thundercracker started at the order._

_Well, at least now he knew why he and Skywarp had been brought along._

"_I'm not some low level gopher of yours!" Starscream was saying irately. "Get one of the grunts to do it, I have far more important things that play sparkling sitter for you!"_

_The red and white Seeker found himself with a face full of fusion cannon._

"_Care to revise that statement?" Megartron asked._

_Not even Starscream was stupid enough when he was staring down the barrel, so he settled for heated glaring. _

_Which left the three Seekers to divvy up the three recruits for a bit of alt mode shopping. Thundercracker glanced around, seeing what the others were doing. It looked like the still complaining Starscream had ended up with the meeker scientist…_

_("I don't actually need an alt. mode, so it's not like we have to do anything." _

"_I'm not giving Megatron a new reason to put a new whole in my head you useless idiot!")_

… _and Skywarp was already hitting it off with Freerun, in his own special way…_

_("Ha ha, you have high heels!" _

"_You have high heels too, you idiot!" _

"_No, I have _thrusters_ so I can _fly_. What's _your_ excuse?")_

…_which left him with…_

"_So are we going or what?" Ampere asked, on hand on a jutted hip and already looking bored with the entire thing. Oh yeah, Thundercracker could already tell this was going to be so much fun. Not._

"_I want a car."_

"_Cars don't have any built in weaponry or armor, you know. Going with a military vehicle is just more practical."_

"_I don't care. I want a car. And not just any car, I want something classy."_

"_Fine, whatever. It's your chassis."_

"_Frag straight it is."_

"_Look, a Porsche. I hear those are nice. Go scan it."_

"_No. We already have a Porsche in the ranks, I want something different."_

"…_Dead End is not going to care if you share an alt mode."_

"**I **_will. Take me somewhere else."_

"_I'm not your slagging chauffer!" _

"_According to Megatron, you are for today!"_

"_Haven't you found something yet?"_

"_I don't really like any of these. Let's look somewhere else."_

"_There's over a hundred cars here!! You can't honestly tell me you couldn't find ANYTHING!"_

"_Can and did. What's next?"_

"_Get down from there! Before someone sees you!"_

"_Why? It's actually kind of fun, and it's not like I really care what the humans think."_

"_You'll care a lot more when they decide to call the Autobots on your aft!"_

"_You know, I don't really like the modern cars. They're so…blocky. Maybe we should try retro, classics never go out of style, and I'd hate to have to scan a new alt mode every few years just to keep up. Where can we find older models?"_

"_How the frag should I know? I'm not your tour guide."_

"_Uh, yes you are, remember? I mean, you have been here for almost ten years now, hm?"_

"_Grr…"_

"_Hmmm…"_

"_What's wrong NOW?!"_

"_I think I like the Maserati's best. Let's check those out."_

"…_You spent almost three hours this morning wandering around the Maserati lot staring at those stupid cars. You couldn't have had this epiphany _back then_??"_

"_Nope. I didn't know I wanted a Maserati until I saw everything else."_

"_What the frag is WRONG with you?!"_

"_Oh don't be so dramatic, TC."_

"_You don't get to call me TC!"_

"_Fine, whatever. What's gotten you so wound up anyway?"_

_It took the insane, nitpicky femme nearly _twelve. Fragging. Hours. _To finally settle on a suitable alt. mode, after forcing Thundercracker to take her to half a dozen lots, residential areas and car shows, just so she could get a 'feel' for all her options and testing Thundercrackers patience to the very limits. That's not even counting the various 'breaks' she kept taking whenever she saw something that caught her fancy._

_If she hadn't finally settled on her choice when she did (a red 1970 __Maserati Ghibli SS__), he may very well have had no choice but to strangle the sadistic femme._

_It whole rotten ordeal left him with a firm impression of the femme: she was selfish, spoiled little Towerling princess who was used to always getting her way and hadn't picked up yet that she was in a fragging _war_ and not some stupid little game. She was insipid and shallow and silly and wouldn't last more than a day among the ranks, and the only reason why Shockwave would send her to Earth was out of a hope she'd get bumped off fairly quickly and put out of everyone's misery, because the sooner she was out-_

"Thundercracker?"

The Seeker jolted out of memory lane and stared dumbly at the subject standing in front of him.

The femme quirked an optic ridge. "Didn't you hear me, or where you too busy exploring the space between your audios?"

Thundercracker scowled, annoyance already rising.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"I asked if you were alright."

He shuttered his optics. "What?"

"The gun thing that Autobot shot you with. It didn't damage you or anything, did it?"

Still confused as to what the femme was getting at, Thundercracker shook his head. "No, no damage at all. Why?"

Ampere smiled a little. "Good to know."

With that, she turned and left, rejoining Freerun and Datum who were waiting for her.

Stunned, Thundercracker watched her go, not even listening to the good natured ribbing Skywarp was giving him about his popularity with the femmes. He was too busy wrapping his CPU around the fact that the "spoiled selfish Towerling princess" who forced him into in 12 hours of pure torture, who had also been the one to save him that day come to think of it, had asked about his welfare, for no other reason than to check if he was alright.

Well. Frag.

…Still didn't mean he had to like her though.


	4. Reaction

AN: Short, I know, but this is more of a transition chapter than anything. Thank you for your patience.

* * *

Orn – two weeks

Ch. 4 – Reactions

At the end of almost every battle, the officers would hold a meeting after everyone had a chance to read the reports to discuss what had happened – new weapons, new tactics, unique developments or observations that could affect future encounters. Sometimes the meeting would only last for thirty minutes going over the generals, sometimes it would last for hours as they hammered down on one confusing detail. They once spent three hours going round and round trying to figure out what possessed Megatron to think that a giant purple mobile griffin fortress was a _good_ idea (but since they spent most of it laughing themselves sick, it probably doesn't count). But any time a new element was introduced, such as every time a new gestalt was created, the meeting was guaranteed a good hour or more dissecting every fact they had about the new enemies. Today was no different.

"Let me check if we at least have the basic information down, based on what everyone has observed up to this point," Optimus said as he began to read off the datapad with the combined information.

"Ampere. Alt mode a 70's Masarati, the only member of the infiltration team with any apparent offensive capabilities, and apparent team leader. Whether she holds an actual rank or it's just de facto, we can't say for sure yet. She has a special ability to paralyze and sabotage machines; including Cybertronians, with the use of…what did you call them again Wheeljack?"

"Well, they look a lot like a special upgrade that a mech I knew in the Academy had designed for his final project," Wheeljack said. "He called them Imps: Immobilizing Particle Sensors. He basically took a certain mining tool used to detect veins of energon and expanded on that. Instead of just detecting flows of energy, the Imps could manipulate it to a limited degree"

"Could they possibly be used to control electronics, either remotely or on contact?" Red Alert (naturally) asked.

"Highly unlikely," Wheeljack answered assuredly. "They just don't have that kind of finesse. They're more for making stuff malfunction or shut down. Ampere might still be able to detect energy with her Imps, which will be a problem for any spies hiding in the immediate vicinity, but by and large they're mostly defensive and non-lethal."

"Duly noted," Prowl said as he typed the additional notes on his copy of the report under the 'Ampere' heading. Optimus lifted up his own copy and continued reading.

"Next up: Datum, alt mode a stationary desktop computer. According to Perceptor, a dedicated scientist meant to, as he had put it, balance out the heavy hitters that dominate the Decepticon army on Earth. He demonstrated skills in hacking and system take over, but is unlikely to be limited in Computer Science."

"He was smart enough to keep up with Perceptor in a scientific debate for 40 minutes, so there is no doubting his intelligence," Trailbreaker mentioned thoughtfully. "But I think the real threat he poses is in his creativity – he improvised a bomb out of items he found in a random storage room and created an escape route out of a dead end."

"The MacGuyver of Cybertron," Hot Spot commented lightly. That earned him a few odd looks from the less pop-culture savvy members. "…Never mind."

"Lastly, Freerun," Optimus went on. "Alt mode, an orange Toyota Supra. For all appearances, he didn't even carry a weapon and has no offensive capabilities. All he can do, as his name implies, is run and escape."

"Now that's a coward if Ah ever saw one," Ironhide groused. "Won't even bother tryin' ta fight back, he just takes the first chance ta run an' hide. At least the other 'Cons put up a fight first."

"That may be the point," the Diversionary Tactician brought up. "Think about it, he outraced the twins _twice_, jumped straight up to avoid getting hit by Wheeljacks Stunner, and kept out of your firing range for a good six minutes before Bluestreak got tired of waiting and lined up the shot. That's no small thing. Did you see his pedes?"

Ironhide shuttered his optics at the apparent random question. "What? Why the frag would Ah bother lookin' at his _pedes_?"

"I'll take that as a 'no.' He's got pistons built into his heels. I'm more than willing to bet they add to his jumps and cushion his falls. He can take routes that no one else could physically follow, maybe even walk away from a fall that would break anyone else's legs."

"This ain't exactly strikin' fear intah mah spark," Ironhide said dryly.

"He doesn't have to, if he can get in and out before we even have a chance to realize he was even there," Silverbolt pointed out. "If he hadn't gotten careless and walked into the twins, no one would have noticed he had the generator until he came out."

"Considering how his wandering in got Sunstreaker and Sideswipe out of the room where Datum had been hiding the entire time, I don't think anyone here honestly believes it was accidental anymore," Red Alert brought up. "Which reminds me. Smokescreen, didn't you say that he recognized Tracks?"

"He said he knew him, yes," the blue Datsun said. "But Tracks has no memory of every meeting him before. Then again, that could just mean that Tracks made a bigger impression than Freerun had at the time. Either way, Tracks can't give us any more details on Freerun or any of the others."

"You've been awfully quiet Jazz," Optimus commented to his 3iC. "Is there anything you would like to add?"

Jazz had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meeting, resting his cheek on one fist as he leaned back in his chair, appearing lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't until Optimus addressed him that he looked up and seemed to rejoin the physical world. He glanced around at the other officers before straightening in his seat.

"I think we're all overlookin' somethin' important here," Jazz started, leaning against the table on his elbows and steepling his fingers. For once, Jazz went straight to the point.

"I don't think these guys are real Decepticons."

Dead silence.

For 3 seconds.

"Jazz, Ah'm not sure if ya noticed this, but those pretty purple spots they were sportin' weren't just for decoration," Ironhide said flatly.

Jazz started counting off on his fingers.

"One: Ampere coulda shot me dead when she figured she couldn't take me prisoner. But she just busted m'comm. an' left me alone, an' she had t' know I'm Optimus' third in command. Not t' toot m'own horn, but I ain't exactly small fry. Megatron'll have her head on a platter if he ever finds out 'bout this.

"Two: Freerun coaxed her into sparin' th' twins, though I doubt she'd'a needed much convincin' after what she did with me. But it still show's us Freerun's mind on things, so it's already two 'Cons who leave their enemies t' be recovered by the other side. What kind of Decepticon – frag, what kinda _soldier_ does that?"

"The kind who hasn't been fighting long enough to be able to kill an unarmed defenseless prisoner." Prowl answered. "You wrote in your own report that Ampere at least doesn't seem battle hardened. That could apply for the other two as well."

"If they're really that fresh, then where could they have been for the last nine million years?" Trailbreaker asked curiously.

"Maybe they were built only recently," Silverbolt suggested. "Or their consciousnesses were in storage this whole time, like with the Combaticons."

"Except that Freerun told the twins he was from Cybertron and implied he was built in Kaon, meaning he has an actual history, nixing the 'built only recently' theory," Hot Spot reminded his fellow Gestalt leader. "Plus, Freerun recognized Tracks. Doesn't that imply a more recent history as well?"

"Not necessarily, but it still brings us back to the question of where they've been this whole time." Prowl said.

"We're gettin' a bit off topic now," Jazz broke in. "I still got one more point.

"I can maybe buy them bein' too green t' shoot an unarmed prisoner. Even 'Cons aren't sparked t' be that ruthless, not healthy ones anyway. But out on th' field, Datum risked serious damage t' protect a human from that tossed truck."

"I remember that," Silverbolt said suddenly. "I saw him crouching by the building, but I didn't realize he was covering for a human then."

"Well, he was," Jazz picked up again. "Does nobody else think that's kinda odd?"

"There are…unusual and unsettling implications if your observations are correct," Prowl said slowly. "Depending on what, exactly, you mean when you say they're not 'real' Decepticons."

"Or it could be an attempt to make these new arrivals appear more sympathetic towards us, get us to lower our guards," Red Alert said firmly. "For all we know, they're already setting up for one of them to become 'disillusioned' with the Decepticons and ask to defect to the Autobots, only to act as Megatron's mole."

"That would be risky and roundabout, since we would be naturally suspicious of any Decepticons," Hot Spot put in.

"Hence sowing the seeds now," Red Alert countered. "The plot would work far more effectively with a complete unknown than with, I don't know, Starscream or Soundwave."

"Until that happens, this is mere speculation," Optimus broke in. "All we can do now is continue our observations until we know them as well as we do any of the other Decepticons. Jazz, I already know you're going to continue your research for your theory anyway, so I'll only ask that you don't risk yourself unnecessarily. If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."

oOoOoOo

~ On the Nemesis ~

"You know, we DO have proper medics available," Datum commented in a deceptively light tone. "In fact, we have six of them, and they're VERY good at all sorts of repairs, been doing it for a long time in fact. Any particular reason why I'm _still_ doing _your_ repairs?"

"'Cause we don't have _medics_, Datum, we've got _Constructicons_ who are _pretending_ to be medics." Freerun countered. "I'm not trusting them to fix my leg properly, thank you very much. These are special customizations!"

At the moment, the runner had his damaged pede in his computer friend's lap, both of whom were seated on Datums berth. It wasn't exactly dignified, but the two friends were too long acquainted to feel uncomfortable about it. Besides, it wasn't like anyone was watching.

"I'm not a medic either, but you trust _me_." Datum pointed out.

"That's because you're the only one aside from Shockwave who knows how to fix my pedes up right."

"Considering how many times I've had to put you back together after one of your fool-headed stunts in the simulation room, I've probably gotten enough practice to build you a whole new set of pedes."

"…Did you just call me 'fool-headed?' What are you, my grandmother? Ow, ow, OW! Okay, I'm sorry, put that back now! Slag you're touchy."

Datum just chuckled as he replaced the wire to its proper place. But they both knew that Datum wasn't seriously complaining; it was more out of tradition than anything, Datum complaining for having to fix Freerun up after said mech had messed himself up yet again. Even Ampere got the same treatment, albeit less often by default of her not endangering herself so often. Freerun and Ampere both also both knew perfectly well that Datum wouldn't let anything short of being offline in the med bay stop him from personally tending to his teammates repairs – he wouldn't tolerate anyone else doing it otherwise.

Speaking of which, the door slid open to reveal their third member, precariously balancing three cubes of energon.

"How's it going?" Ampere asked as she came in, letting the door slide shut behind her.

"Just finished, so Freerun should be good to go," Datum reported as he closed up the panels in the orange mechs ankle. "Test it out, see how it feels."

Obediantly Freerun stood up from the berth and took an experimental walk around the room, feeling out his ankle. He grinned at Datum.

"Good as new Doc," he declared, before jumping up onto his bunk above Datums berth – instead of using the increasingly useless ladder.

"Huzzah. We shall celebrate your joyous recovery," Ampere said, tossing the cubes to Datum and Freerun before settling on the edge of her berth, across the room from the bunk berths that Datum and Freerun claimed.

Granted, it was a bit unusual for a femme to share a room with a mech, let alone two of them, and when they had been on Cybertron Ampere had had her own room (because Shockwave was surprisingly proper like that). But the realities of an underwater base left them with limited rooms to spare, so it just seemed natural enough to stick the new guys into one room and let them figure out the logistics for themselves. But since their friendship was so sibling like in nature, the initial awkwardness only lasted for maybe three seconds. Now they didn't even think about it.

"How's that for Day 1, eh?" Ampere asked, leaning back on one hand as she sipped her cube lazily. "More excitement in one day that an entire week on Cybertron! I'm already stoked for the next mission."

"That's because you're a shameless coolant junkie," Datum says, breaking the seal on his cube with his thumbs. "You're not going to be nearly so giddy after your first loss."

"Not happening," Ampere counters.

"The loss of giddy or the loss mission?"

"Both."

Freerun sipped his energon slowly as he laid back on his berth, listening to his teammates banter back and forth on the merits of Amperes confidence verses known reality. While the generator itself was a bust, technically it had been a successful mission. Or at least, he, Ampere, and Datum all did their parts and didn't screw it all up, which wasn't too bad for a first day on the job. Still, it was only going to get worse from here on out. He wasn't expected to be on the front lines, but he was not relishing the thought of firing a gun with intent to kill.

He grimaced as he thought of the twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Frankly, he wouldn't mind too much if the yellow one got dropped in a canyon somewhere, but he almost liked the red one. Or at least, would generally prefer his survival over his deactivation. But the next time they met, those two would be actively trying to kill him, and Freerun would, at the very least, be forced to defend himself.

Simulations could never prepare you for the real thing.

As Freerun thought of the twins, his mind brought up another face – the blue Corvette, Tracks.

He frowned. Whenever he thought of that Autobot, he felt…Pit, he didn't know how he felt. But even when Tracks had held him in an iron grip, even when Freerun was, for the moment, completely trapped by the bigger, stronger, enemy mech…he wasn't scared. He couldn't be scared, not of Tracks.

It felt like, Freerun mused, how it would feel if Ampere or Datum were holding a gun to his head: they would be fully capable of ending his life, yet he wouldn't be the least bit worried because he had complete and utter trust in them not to pull the trigger.

Which was absolutely, totally, unforgivably bizarre and defined all common sense.

Except…

"Thinking deep thoughts again, Freerun?" Ampere asked. The runner was jolted out of his musings, and he twisted half on his side to see Ampere watching him from her seat across the room.

"Sort of," he admitted. He hesitated, and then asked "Did any of the Autobots seem, I don't know, kind of…different to you?"

Ampere and Datum exchanged a look.

"Well, Perceptor is probably the most easily distracted bot I have ever met in my life, but that was about it," Datum said. Ampere shrugged.

"They all seemed kind of the same to me. Except Jazz, I don't know where he got that accent. Does that count?"

"Did something happen?" Datum asked, bending forward and twisting around so as to look up at his friend from below.

Freerun recalled the flashes of images and sensations, so fragmented and abrupt they seemed more like memories of a dream than an event. The strange, wordless almost-trust he had in the Autobot he had never met that he couldn't explain. The way just meeting him had made him feel like his world had halted because some cosmic entity had hit the pause button and was saying 'pay attention, 'cause this is important.' How to explain what he didn't even understand?

"Freerun?" Ampere prodded, standing up and coming a little closer, concern in her optics.

But then again, it could be nothing. Maybe he was just blowing a figment of his imagination completely out of proportion. There was no point in worrying his teammates over what could be nothing. If it happened again, then he'd talk about it. But as far as he knew, this was a one-time thing, a badly timed case of déjà vu that was making him place importance on things that didn't matter. Obviously, Tracks hadn't recognized _him_, so they've clearly never actually met. Even if they had, it had probably just been a passing thing, enough to tug at his sense of the familiar but nothing truly substantial. It was nothing worth making a big deal over, and certainly nothing to work his friends up over.

Hopefully, things would be back to normal by tomorrow. Or at least, whatever passed for 'normal' on this planet.

"…Nothing happened. Nothing important."

oOoOoOo

Elita leaned back in her office chair as she read through the report Optimus had just sent her.

'_So, they really were meant for Earth then,'_ Elita though as she read over the descriptions, then pulling up her own files to compare the notes.

Her contingent had become aware of the new Decepticons about six or seven orns ago, but they were never able to get that much information on them. For some reason, Shockwave had kept them under close guard. He didn't lock them up exactly, he just didn't let them engage in any battles with the Contingent. Seeing as only one of them actually seemed built for battle, that seemed fairly reasonable. It also made sense that Shockwave wouldn't want to risk their being scrapped before they could even leave the planet, if they were meant for Megatron's own uses.

"Then again, who would want untested soldiers among the army's elites?" She questioned. "And what makes them so special?"

She had read up on the special abilities, and they certainly added variety to the Decepticons skills sets that could prove invaluable – it expanded options regarding tactics and fallbacks. But what they brought to the table wasn't THAT fantastic, not enough to warrant Shockwave keeping them safe from the Big Bad Femmes until they were ready to go to Earth.

Elita didn't like question marks, and right now she was looking at three big ones. She and Optimus were of like mind in that matter: they wanted to know where they came from, who they were, where they've been and who they were connected to, and what made them so valuable to Megatron now. Granted, when all was said and done it could be that there was nothing of import to be discovered after all. But Elita hated unknowns, and the enemy you knew wasn't nearly as dangerous as the enemy you didn't.

Datum had apparently claimed to have been a student at the Academy, either at the same time as Perceptor or shortly afterwards. That was as good a place as any to start.

* * *

AN: You know, I think Elita's becoming my signature character. She shows up at least once in all of my stories. *laughs* Ah well. She's a secretly awesome character, I believe, so I don't really mind.


	5. Fragments

**AN**: This chapter has been adjusted slightly to accomidate for a new flow in the story. See the Author's Notes in Chapter 6 for details as to why.

Assume a decent amount of time has passed between each segment.

* * *

Ch. 5 – Fragments

Ampere walked down the hall, reading the datapad in hand with the details of tomorrow's mission. It would be the first time she went out on the field without either Freerun or Datum there, which was both exciting and nerve wracking, having to work without her usual support to fall back on in case things went south (and from what she read, more often than not that's what usually happened). So engrossed was she in her reading, she very nearly bumped into the purple wall known to all as Astrotrain.

"Excuse me," she said distractedly, moving to go around him. This time, she found her way blocked as Astrotrain leaned against the wall with one hand.

Ampere looked up (and up) at him and arched an optic ridge. "Can I help you?"

"You know, you're the first femme a lot of the mechs here have seen in a loooong time," Astrotrain said conversationally. "And you were lapping up the attention like you couldn't get enough of it. Except for those two you came with, now you've been avoiding everyone like a bad case of Cosmic Rust."

Ampere shrugged. "Well, I won't lie and say I don't like being the center of attention, but even _I_ can get a little sick of it. It was getting to the point where the only mech I'd willing spend time with was Dead End, and that's because he's so pessimistic about his chances he doesn't even _try_."

"Even if he thought he had a chance, he'd just convince himself it wasn't worth it because we're all going to die horribly anyway," Astrotrain pointed out.

"This is true," Ampere agreed with a sage nod. "But anyways, right now I'm at the point where I'm just waiting for the novelty of having a femme around wears off so I can do my job already."

Astrotrain smirked. "If you were just a femme, I'd agree with you. But believe me, the 'novelty' of having a pretty face with a sassy personality around never wears off. Can't speak for the others, but I for one know a good thing when I see it."

The triple changer leaned in slightly, just enough to prompt Ampere to take an instinctive half step back.

"You may love the attention, but you won't just settle for any mech," Astrotrain figured. "Even better, while you may joke around, you don't actively try to lead anyone one. You've got standards and principles. I like a femme who knows what she's worth."

As he finished, he trailed a finger up Amperes arm. The femme slapped his hand away.

"What gives you the impression that I'm going to be that easy?" she asked icily. Astrotrain raised an optic ridge at her.

"Weren't you just listening? If I thought you'd be an easy lay, I wouldn't be nearly as interested. I enjoy a good chase, and you're certainly quite a prize."

"And if I don't want to be chased?" she asked, crossing her arms. Astrotrain's smirk widened as he leaned closer and invaded her personal space again.

"Well, getting you to change your mind is half the fun of it."

"Until then, Casanova, would you be so kind as to move out of the way?" an irritated voice asked, hidden behind the triple changer. Astrotrain stepped back to reveal an annoyed looking Thundercracker, arms crossed and scowling up at the taller Decepticon, holding his own datapad.

"This might come as a shock, but most of us have actual work to do," Thundercracker said. "Ampere, we need to go over the mission details, and sometime today would be great."

Ampere knew an opening when she saw it.

"Right, thanks for reminding me. Sorry Astrotrain, but this'll have to wait for a day when I can be bothered."

The femme quickly slipped back Astrotrain and walked off with Thundercracker at a brisk pace before he had a chance to protest. Once down the hall, she peeked over her shoulder to make sure they were safely out of audio range before speaking to her unexpected savior.

"Thundercracker, I've already seen the mission roster. You're nowhere on it."

The Seeker shrugged. "What was I supposed to do, pull the fire alarm? While we're on it, if you wanted him to back off, why didn't you just zap him with your Imps?"

Ampere shrugged casually. "Couple of reasons; partly because he hadn't actually done anything to warrant something that extreme, mostly because the Imps are first generation and no one is a hundred percent certain about possible long term side effects from overuse. I don't want to turn someone into a drooling drone just because he was a bit of a jerk. Besides, I don't make threats lightly, and only when I'm fully ready to follow through."

"Not big on bluffing then."

"Meh. You know, it's not like I _needed_ you to ride in like a white knight and save me from the big bad monster."

"Like I said, I already knew that. But since you weren't going to do anything, this was just the fastest and easiest way to get Astrotrain off your case. Besides, Astrotrains been getting annoying lately. He deserves to be taken down a peg."

Ampere laughed lightly. "You do realize that Astrotrain is going to be peeved when he checks the rosters and figures out he's been tricked. And you KNOW what he's going to assume your motive was for it."

Thundercracker shrugged. "Like I care what that flyer wannabe thinks."

There was a lull in the conversation that lasted a little too long. Curious, Thundercracker chanced a look at the femme walking next to him. She was looking at with a full out, far too amused grin. Thundercracker had occasionally heard mention of a "canary eating grin", but until that moment he didn't understand what it meant. Though he knew he would regret it, he had to ask.

"What?"

"I've got you figured out," Ampere declared smugly. "You act all broody, but you're secretly a real gentlemech who can't stand watching pretty little femmes being harassed by the big bad mechs. I never knew you were so chivalrous."

Thundercracker abruptly stopped walking and faced her.

"You've been watching too many romance vids, femme; you're reading _way_ too much into this," he told her flatly. He pushed his datapad into Amperes arms, which she accepted automatically. "If you want to thank me, you can take my patrol for this evening and we'll call it even."

Ampere lit up. Patrols were generally considered boring and so much busy work, but she loved any and all opportunities to leave the base and go exploring. There was just so much to see, and she loved going outside. Besides, she got bored easily, and being anywhere else was better than in a base at the bottom of the ocean.

"That sounds fair!" she agreed brightly.

It wasn't until she was walking away that she remembered an important little detail. When she did, she froze in horrified realization for a second before she did an about face to yell at Thundercracker's retreating back.

"Wait a sec! Seekers are the fastest fliers in the forces. You're patrol circuits are at LEAST three times bigger than everyone elses!"

Thundercracker half turned and smirked at Ampere.

"Yes they are," he confirmed calmly. "And we're expected to finish them in the exact same amount of time as you finish your smaller ones. You'd better get a hustle if you don't want to be late."

"….You are a **dead mech walking**," Ampere hissed.

"And yet, I feel fine."

A quick experiment proved she was not secretly a Jedi or a Sith; no matter how hard she tried, Am[pere could not harness the force to force choke the retreating Seeker. Frag it.

oOoOoOo

New York City: famous for being a constant hive of activity no matter the day, night, or season. It ebbed and flowed, the populace diverse and shifting, so that even the strangest of people could just be one more face in the crowd and every facet of life was represented somewhere or other in the expansive human settlement. It was a center of human culture and learning, with incredible museums, expansive libraries, and architectural wonders. But it had its dirty grimy underworld, where humans fought and survived and sometimes thrived in the underbelly of the city where no one in their right mind – or with the good fortune of other options – would tread.

Freerun mused this was probably his favorite part of the city.

The orange and black car drove around the back streets of the seedier parts of the city, never remaining too long in once place, lest he attract the less reputable locals with his clean and well designed alt mode.

But for all his alertness of would be human carjackers, he never noticed his more otherworldly tracker.

The Autobot had been trailing the Decepticon for hours, undetected, like a predator stalking his prey. He had been inching closer, waiting for the perfect time to strike, waiting for the Decepticon to make a mistake, waiting until it was far too late for him to run and escape. He had waited too long, hunted too carefully, to let him escape now.

Freerun was heading to the more affluent parts of the city, the parts overcrowded with shopping stores. He halted at an intersection, where a handful of young males had set up a mat and a stereo. They had been there for some time, if the crowd was any indication, and they were performing for the crowd, dancing and moving like their limbs were made of rubber and that they had been born to dance. The crowd was enraptured, and at the end of every performance they roared with applause and filled the small boxes with change and small bills, tips for a good show.

Freerun, hiding in plain sight, watched the humans intensely, completely absorbed by the show. The Autobot couldn't smirk as he was, but he wanted to so badly. With predatory anticipation he creeped closer and closer to his unsuspecting victim-to-be. The Decepticon was distracted. He never even realized he was being hunted until it was far too late to escape.

The crowd roared again at the end of another performance, and the Autobot took this chance to strike.

"What's shakin' bacon?"

Freerun tried his very best to jump straight out of his own tires.

"Primus slaggit what is WRONG with you?!" Freerun yelled (because he did NOT screech, no siree, he was far too mechly to screech).

A human male looked up and around at the sudden screaming, but finding nothing of interest beyond the orange Toyota Supra and the Porsche with the racing stripes and '4' on it, he returned his attention to the far more interesting street dancers.

"Might wanna keep it down, don't wanna freak the humans out too much," Jazz advised calmly. "You guys aren't too popular most places, y'know."

"What are you DOING here?!" Freerun hissed in a fierce whisper. "Are you freaking following me??"

"Wasn't my intent comin' here." Jazz replied. "There's a Jam Fest at Central Park later today. I just wanted to listen t' some good music. What're you doin' here?"

"Mysteriously nefarious Decepticon things," Freerun deadpanned.

"Mysteriously nefarious Decepticon things involvin' a city tour?" Jazz asked, amusement coloring his tone. When Freerun said nothing, Jazz added, "You've been wandering around for hours, ya ain't doin' anythin' but taking th' sights."

"You've been following me _all day_?" Freerun asked incredulously. "Don't you have anything better to do with your life?"

"Nope! It's my day off!" Jazz chirped back happily.

For a moment, Freerun desperately wished he had a sturdy wall and a head to bang on it. Instead, he sank into his tires.

"So, what now?" Freerun asked. "You gonna try to bring me in?"

"Nah," Jazz answered casually. "Like I said, you're not doin' anythin', and I'm not about to go all rah rah over some guy on what I can only assume is his day off. 'Sides, I still owe Ampere one for not shootin' my head off when she had th' chance. Now we can call it good."

Jazz had the impression of Freerun being surprised by the simple answer.

"…Oh. Okay then." He said, before falling silent.

Long pause.

"Y'know, I didn't expect you t' believe me so easily like that," Jazz admitted after a few seconds.

Freerun made what could best be described as a verbal shrug. "Well, you told me straight out that _you're_ not going to do anything so long as _I_ don't do anything. I know that you can stretch, bend, and spin the truth better than just about any bot alive, but barring a life or death situation you won't straight up lie if you can help it."

"Where'd you hear that?" Jazz asked, this time allowing sincere surprise to color his tone.

The verbal shrug again (when you spent a great deal of your life as a car, you learned how to verbalize a lot of common body language motions). "Don't remember. Just something I learned about you. I'm right, aren't I?"

He was, actually, but Jazz wasn't about to confirm the almost scarily accurate assessment of his character for him.

"Just what are you doin' in the Big Apple anyway?" Jazz asked instead. "Bit of a drive from the 'Con base."

"It was," Freerun admitted. "But I saw some pictures, and I wanted to see it for myself. I kind of liked this part of it. I grew up in Kaon, so it kind of reminds me of home."

_A peek into Jazz's head: chibi Jazz dancing around with a huge grin (XD) and holding a sign over his head saying, 'SCORE!'_

"I'm from Polyhex m'self," Jazz was saying. "Dance was a pretty big part of our culture there. Not sure about Kaon though, never been there. Is dance big there too?"

Freerun snorted. "Hardly. It got a lot worse during the war, or so I heard, but even at its heyday it wasn't that great a place to live. Least not from where I was standing. I grew up on the streets; I spent most of my time trying to survive. Did a lot of things I'm not proud of."

The last bit was said quietly, almost to himself. Jazz softened his own tone to match.

"I didn't spend m' whole life on the straight and narrow either, if you follow m' drift," Jazz admitted. "I know how it can be sometimes, getting' trapped in a vicious cycle. Real hard to break outta that kind of life without doin' somethin' drastic."

"That's actually why I kind of admire some of these humans," Freerun said, bringing their attention back to the dancers. "Their situation probably isn't too different from what mine had been, but their focusing their attention and energy doing what they love and hoping it'll be enough to get them out of here."

Pause.

"Kinda wish these guys didn't abuse some of their moves," He admitted. "They're getting too repetitive and tiring themselves out with an overly elaborate routine. They don't need to show off how good they are every three seconds, and bored audiences don't pay."

"You did the same thing, I take it?" Jazz guessed. Freerun laughed.

"Not in Kaon, pit no. Never would have survived if the crew I was hanging with found out about it. Wasn't exactly a 'respectful' way to make a living. But it kept me fed when I made it to Iacon."

"So you DID get out," Jazz said, sincerely pleased. "Quite a move though. How'd you like it?"

"…You know, you're asking an awful lot of questions," Freerun said. This time, it was Jazz who made the verbal shrug.

"Just tryin' t' make conversation. Not my fault you ain't askin' any back. I'll drop it if ya really want be to though."

"I really want you to."

"Fair enough. Consider it dropped."

As if on cue, the street performers were ending the show, taking deep bows and collecting tips from the crowd. They had done financially well today, from the looks of it; Jazz wished them the best.

Once the crowd dispersed, Freerun had the space to start rolling away. "I gotta get back now," he said. "Unless you're planning to follow me all the way to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, this is probably good bye."

"Nah. I already know where ya live," Jazz joked by way of good bye.

And, in what most of their comrades would consider a minor or major miracle, not to mention a moment of utter insanity, the Autobot and Decpeticon parted peacefully on fairly amiable terms.

Jazz headed towards Central Park, where the Jam Fest was being hosted, deep in thought, turning the encounter with the young Decepticon over in his head. He was definitely young: like Ampere, he was far from battle hardened. That he was so easy in Jazz's presence was odd evidence of this. He never explained how he escaped his less than happy old life, but considering where he was now and the Decepticons original recruitment methods, it was easy to guess.

The Decepticons held a lot of appeal in the early days, especially to the frustrated and down trodden bots who just wanted a better life, back when the Decepticons had been promising to shake up the system that left far too many of them trapped in poor, sometimes terrible circumstances. That was long before anyone had any idea what kind of mech Megatron really was. It was easy to imagine lots of youngsters getting caught up in the message and not realizing they had signed up for way more than they had bargained for until it was too late to get out. That might even be why Freerun upgraded to be a runner, Jazz mused. It was a way to contribute without having to fight or kill…as much.

Heh, actually, Freerun actually reminded him of a certain human: Tracks' friend Raoul. Jazz hadn't thought of him in nearly a month now, but between being in New York and seeing the dancers, it was bringing Raoul back to the forefront of his mind. Not to mention, he and Freerun shared a similar background. Freerun probably would have liked him.

This promptly gave Jazz a mental image of Tracks and Freerun playing tug of war with the human like a pair of sparklings with a favorite toy. Morbid maybe, but it almost made him giggle.

Have to admit it though, Freerun and Raoul had a lot in common. Even their personalities and much of their histories were similar. Pit, switch out a couple of minor details like city names and they'd be exactly alike.

Jazz hit the brakes so hard he squealed to a stop with smoking tires.

No way. It was just coincidence. He was probably projecting too much in this case. That, that random thought that crossed his mind, that impossible 'what if…?' that danced past his thoughts like a firefly just couldn't be anywhere near true. It didn't make any sense, and it was so out there, Jazz almost didn't even want to think too hard of it, didn't even want to name the theory. It was just too (and he couldn't believe he was using the word) _illogical_.

Then again, what about Freeruns steady assurance of his intuitive knowledge of Jazz? It could explain how he could have known that, without knowing how he did. And…it possibly could explain how Freerun could remember a pre-war Kaon and yet still seem so _young_.

There was nothing for it but to put that thought (not a theory, just a thought) in the drawer for later. Jazz turned and headed out of the city. He wasn't in the mood for music anymore, but maybe Elita had a chance to send some of her findings tonight. He had some serious thinking to do.

oOoOoOo

Datum crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the cassette twins, frowning in sternness and uncompromising denial.

"No." he said flatly.

"C'mon, please?" Rumble entreated.

"_No."_

"Just one hour, that's all we're asking." Frenzy tried. "You can spare an hour, can't'cha? We'll trade ya too, just say what you want!"

"I want you to stop bugging me and go away."

"If do that until tomorrow, will you let us then?"

Datum sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Seriously, why me?"

"We can't do it in the monitor room because everybody would just keep bothering in and taking over if we did, and we can't do in Soundwaves quarters because we…um, we're kinda having technical difficulties with that one." Rumble hedged.

"He means Soundwave locked us out of his terminal ever since a certain someone shot a bazooka through the screen," Frenzy deadpanned.

"I thought the safety was still on!" Rumble shouted back.

Datums nose rub turned into a bridge pinch.

"This isn't encouraging me to help you guys, you know," he told them.

"Dude, one hour, that's all we're asking!" Rumble pleaded. "We play for one hour and we'll happily leave you alone for the rest of the week."

The scientist was about to tell them off again, when he paused. Sighing, he let his arms drop.

"You're going to keep bugging me every free minute of the day until I say yes, aren't you?" he surmised.

The cassette twins just grinned.

With a resigned sigh, Datum stepped back into the room he, Freerun, and Ampere shared before transforming into computer mode on the floor, in easy reach for the Cassettecons.

"Fine. But just ONE hour," he iterated firmly.

"Whoo hoo!" Frenzy cheered, as he held up a plastic game case. "I call dibs on first round of 'DOOM'!"

oOoOoOo

A lone red plane flew through the clouds, only half heartedly taking in the area and making notes for his report when he got back. Even that miniscule effort was purely for the sake of appearance; this wasn't a patrol so much as the brasses way of giving him a chance to cool his head, after he nearly came to blows with Cliffjumper over something the fellow red minibot said. It wasn't even entirely Cliffjumpers fault; the minibot just had a special talent for making even the most neutral statements sound offensive.

Pit, it was one of those "neutral" statements that set Powerglide off. He didn't even remember what Cliffjumper had said, before he was trying to jump on him and beat the ever loving slag out of him. The fight was only stopped because Ironhide had, literally, pulled them apart. He promptly sent Cliffjumper to inventory duty and Powerglide on a long range patrol for Decepticon activity, to give them a chance to cool off before they had a chance to see each other again.

Intellectually, Powerglide understood that he was out of control. He never used to be this bad; sure, he got mad, and he had always been impulsive, but he never gave into fits of temper like this. Sometimes, even he got scared by how crazy he got sometimes, and he didn't even realize the damage he was creating until the haze faded and it was all over. He was half waiting for Optimus to get sick of it and send him back to Cybertron in full stasis lock before he could really hurt someone.

In Powerglides defense, though, today was a really, really bad day for him. Not because of anything that had happened, not because of anything anyone did. It had everything to do with the day itself, what had put Powerglide on the hyper sensitive hair trigger.

Today would have been Astoria's 32nd birthday.

He wasn't stupid. He knew going in their time would be limited. The women on both sides of her family generally lived long and tended to age well (or so Powerglides extensive independent research had turned up), but compared to the millions of years his kind could last a century was almost nothing. At best, Astoria would have only live for another fifty or sixty years, seventy if she was really, really lucky. He understood that, and he learned to accept that.

But even if they couldn't have had an eternity together, was it too much to ask for just one short lifetime?

Already, Powerglide could feel his anger begin rolling again.

It was just so…unfair! She was supposed to live to a ripe old age doing so many things, fulfilling the plans she had, doing what she wanted, and he was supposed to be there right alongside her. Their time was too short already, and then the Decepticons came and took even THAT away! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair! Astoria was supposed to still be there, with her laugh and her smile and her sparkling blue eyes and the right words to say to calm him down if he was upset or bring him higher, but she wasn't here anymore and there wasn't anyone left for him to talk to.

And he hated it, hated it, HATED IT!

Powerglide, rather than calming down again as the long fight was meant to do, was working himself up all over again and with no outlet for his newest temper tantrum. So when he saw the lone red Maserati going too fast down the highway with the distinctive purple emblem on the hood, well, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

Training and habit alone had him reporting to the Ark his sighting, as he was supposed to do (patrol, remember?).

"_Powerglide to Ark, Decepticon sighting along Highway 456 in Sector 1-9-2 Beta."_

"_Noted." _Red Alert answered._ "Follow and track, but do not engage."_

Too bad for Red Alert, that was not what Powerglide wanted to hear.

"_Please repea…can't…loosing con…"_

"_Don't you DARE try that trick, I've heard it far too many times from Sideswipe! Do not engage, do you hear me Powerglide? Do not-!"_

Powerglide cut the connection. Oops.

He knew perfectly well that he was SOOO going to get it when he got back, but he was angry and in desperate need of venting, and that Decepticon car down below him had offered itself up as the perfect venue for his only slightly misplaced aggression.

He dove down, peppering the road in front of the lone Decepticon with bullets and tearing up the concrete with tiny holes. The red sports car swerved madly to avoid the fire and practically fell off the highway, tearing into the grass as they went off road. Powerglide followed, doing flybys and herding the Decepticon away from the roads where humans could pass by or gather – he wasn't stupid enough to risk innocent bystanders _(like Astoria had been)_ in this fight.

The Decepticon transformed – oh, it was a femme, Powerglide remembered someone mentioning that – and ran under the tree cover. In spite of her bright armor, the trees were thick enough to provide adequate cover. But Powerglide could still catches snippets of red among the greens, so whenever he flew by he would concentrate those spots and devastate them with his fire. But the femme was constantly moving even as she fired back, so he could never get an exact bead on her.

That was fine. He didn't want this to end too quickly anyway. He had a Decepticon alone, out gunned, out maneuvered, and far away from any possible reinforcements. He felt his systems beat with the visceral, violent thrill of it. She had not been there when Astoria had died, true, but it was sweet retribution – no, pure _justice_ – all the same.

Too bad Powerglide hadn't bothered to read the full report.

As he made another pass that, in his arrogance and assurance of his superiority in this fight, was far too low, unbeknownst to him the femme had unfolded her Imps and _flared_. The next thing he knew, he was hit by an EMP blast from below that scrambled this telemetry measurements. He wobbled in the air as he tried recalibrate.

He took a second too long.

Next thing he knew was searing pain in his right wing, the tip blown clean off. He howled in agony as he lost control, falling into a dive. He crashed and skipped across the grass, leaving a long path of torn grass and upturned dirt until he finally skidded to a halt. He transformed, which cut the sensors to his damaged wing and blessedly numbing the pain. His relief only lasted for three seconds, until he heard the click of a gun being cocked in his immediate vicinity. Slowly, still kneeling on the ground, he looked up to see the Decepticon femme, standing on top of a small rise, stance wide, face serious, the rifle in her hands trained dead center on his head.

Strangely enough, Powerglide felt rather calm about the prospect of his imminent termination. Maybe the long, long war had long since resigned him to this inevitability. Or perhaps more recently, he had simply stopped caring.

"Go ahead, finish it," Powerglide told her blandly. Bitterly he added, "Not like you ever cared about shooting dead anyone who couldn't fight back."

"Ex-cuse me?"

Powerglide looked up in disbelief. The femme still had the rifle on him, but now she looked annoyed.

"I'll thank you NOT to just toss me into the stereotype," she huffed. "First time we've met, and you're already calling me a cold blooded killer? I'll have you know, if I was really as bad as all that, you'd be down one officer already!"

"The only reason you didn't kill Jazz was because you had some ulterior motive!" Powerglide shot back, his anger rekindling. "And don't even TRY to take the high moral ground here! You're still a 'Con, and 'Con's don't have mercy for anyone, not even each other!"

"Have you met every Deception in existence?" she fired back acidly. "No? Then shut up. If you're going to lump us all together because of the actions of a few, then you're just stupid and short sighted. What makes you think you get to decide who I am based on what someone else does?"

"SHUT UP!" Powerglide exploded, scrambling up to his pedes, fists clenched, body near vibrating with anger.

"Just shut up, shut up, shut UP you hypocritical little brat! You don't GET to be offended! You don't GET to act all innocent when _you're_ the one who decided to join the Decepticons! Decepticons kill and torture and sacrifice innocent women out of petty vengeance, and you were the one who decided she wanted to join them! So you don't get to act like _I'm_ in the wrong here!"

The Decepticon had been getting madder and madder with every word, until all of a sudden anger turned into confusion. Confusion slowly morphed into stunned realization after Powerglide finished his rant, when she just…stared at him. Slowly, before his very optics, she almost seemed to deflate, growing smaller as her righteous anger left her.

"Who did you lose?" she asked softly.

Powerglide crossed his arms and stubbornly looked away. He refused to grant her the dignity of an answer.

"Innocent women…" she repeated to herself. "It was that one human, wasn't it? Astoria Carlton-Ritz."

Powerglide still didn't answer, but he couldn't repress the flinch.

"I remember reading the reports," she went on as she lowered her rifle. "She sounded like quite a character. Spoiled rotten, but plucky and brazen, and even if she seemed shallow, at least she had her priorities straight."

"Why were you reading battle reports from nine years ago?" Powerglide found himself asking before he could catch himself.

The femme smirked a little. "Astoria made complete fools of Megatron and Soundwave when they tried to extract that formula from her mind. Starscream highlighted it as recommended reading for new recruits. I actually kept a copy for my personal library because I liked it so much."

Powerglide couldn't help but think that Astoria would have found that terribly funny.

The femme took her rifle off him completely, letting the barrel point to the ground as she looked away thoughtfully into the distance. She didn't put the gun away – she was still prepared to defend herself if given reason to – but she wasn't about to shoot Powerglide either, not unless he acted first.

"I guess I can't blame you for hating us," she admitted. "Not when we've hurt you so personally."

It wasn't an apology, but the acknowledgement from a _Decepticon_ left Powerglide, for once, completely speechless. Seriously, what was he supposed to say to something like that??

To through him off even more, Ampere settled down to sit on the rise, keeping the gun in her hands. It was such a relaxed pose, Powerglide felt all…odd seeing it. If it was meant to put him at ease and make her seem less like a threat, it was having mixed success. Especially since she still had a finger on the trigger.

She gave him a sidelong look. "My names Ampere, by the way."

"Powerglide." The name slipped out all on his own.

"I know," Ampere said with a little smile. "I read the reports."

She paused. Softly, she said, "I didn't know she had died though."

"What, the capture, torture, and killing of humans not fall under 'recommended reading'?" Powerglide asked acidly.

Ampere flinched, but said nothing. They fell into an awkward silence. The tension just got thicker and thicker, until Powerglide couldn't stand it anymore. He just had to break that silence any way he could.

"So…shouldn't you be taking me prisoner or something?" he asked.

"Oh come off it," she chided. "You're not supposed to be giving me suggestions."

"Not my fault you're not following the traditional Decepticon MO," Powerglide replied, in what could almost be mistaken for a teasing tone.

She tilted her head back and grinned at him, coyly saying "Well, maybe I'm just special."

"Oh, you're 'special' alright," he muttered none too quietly.

Ampere threw a rock at his head.

"Can I ask a question?" she asked, once she had stopped giggling and Powerglide had stopped complaining about the new dent in his helm. Said plane, hands still on his head cone, looked up at her oddly.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she added.

Powerglide lowered his hands with a shrug. "Well, I can't exactly stop you from asking anyway, so since I don't have to answer, go ahead."

Ampere started to speak, but then stopped herself. She pressed her lips together in a tight line as she fidgeted, shuffling her pedes and crossing and uncrossing her arms. A couple of times she almost spoke, but kept stopping herself as if out of embarrassment. It was all starting to get on the Autobot's nerves.

"Spit it out already!" Powerglide snapped irritably.

Ampere cycled a big breath of air, and summoned the nerve to ask her question in a hesitating, quiet voice he could barely hear. She couldn't even look at him as she asked her long awaited query.

"What…made you decide…to enter into a relationship with a human?"

The seconds ticked by one by one with no answer. The femme was left feeling more and more like a fool for it, practically shrinking into herself as she realized just what a bad idea this had been.

"That's a really personal question you're asking," Powerglide said flatly.

Ampere ducked her head, embarrassed.

"You're right. I shouldn't have asked. Just forget I said anything at all, okay?" she said.

Awkward silence again.

"It's just…" Ampere went on, even as her common sense kept chanting _shut up shut shut UP!_ "…it's hard for me to understand. Don't get me wrong; from what I read, I rather liked her myself, and hey, to each his own, right? But she was still human, and she was going to grow old and die, assuming she stayed healthy and barring accidents. It's like, like allowing yourself to fall in love with a bot you knew was dying from a terminal virus."

Powerglide said nothing.

Ampere kept the rifle on her lap, but she leaned back on one hand to look up at the clear blue sky.

"Maybe it's better this way," she mused. "This way, you'll be able to remember as she was in her prime. You don't have to watch her waste away a few decades from now."

Silence.

She looked back down at Powerglide, wondering about his sudden fit of quiet. The minibot had become stiff, optics staring at nothing but wide in stunned horror.

She sat up straight again. "Powerglide?"

"How _dare_ you," he hissed, optics narrowing and hands clenching into fists again.

The next second he was running up the slope to her so fast Ampere didn't even have time to blink before he was standing next to here. Standing, Powerglide only would have come to about her chest, if that high. But she was sitting on the ground and his fury gave him incredible presence until he easily towered over her.

"How can you say that?!" he demanded angrily. "You think that because now I don't have to _watch_ her die that makes it okay she's dead _now_?? Just because I don't have to watch her grow old? I WANTED her to stay! I wanted to watch her do everything she wanted, and I wanted to help her reach her goals and do everything she wished! Astoria wanted to live! She had so much life left, so much left to do, she had so many plans, and she can't do any of that now because she's dead! I wasn't ready to lose her! I wanted to make more memories with her, I wanted to hoard every day, every minute, slaggit, every second I could because I already KNEW we didn't have much time! I wasn't ready to let go, and she wasn't ready to die!

"So don't tell me that it's BETTER THIS WAY!!"

Powerglide shouted the last line as loud as he could, shoulders bunched, optics burning blue-white, leaning over Ampere and looking full ready to fall all over her in the fiercest fight ever at the drop of the wrong word.

The femme was leaning away from the emotional onslaught, one hand over her chest defensively, optics wide, lips slightly parted. The rifle remained in her lap, forgotten by both.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she said. "I was out of line. I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that. I'm so sorry."

Powerglide had been ready for a lot of things. An apology wasn't one of them.

All at once, he felt himself deflate as all his anger left him, like a hot air balloon crashing to the ground. He'd been so angry lately, constantly angry, but now he just felt tired. Tired and empty and hollow, like a fire that had consumed all in its path only to burn out and die into nothingness.

Wordlessly, he turned and trudged to a nice sturdy tree, plopping down and leaning back against it. He didn't have the energy to do anything else.

"You really did love her, didn't you?" Ampere said softly.

"……Yeah."

"I see."

"…"

"Tell me about her."

Powerglide shuttered his optics. "What?"

Ampere subspaced her rifle, kicked up her feet and spun around so she was facing Powerglide again, tucking her feet in so that she was sitting Indian style (a position that would be difficult to get up quickly from and thus left her vulnerable to a sudden attack from Powerglide), giving the Autobot her full and undivided attention.

"She meant a lot to you," Ampere said. "Tell me about her."

He almost refused to on principle. But, she was here and she was listening and she couldn't have been less threatening if she had lain down and shown her belly like a dog, and at this point there didn't seem to be any point in saying 'no' and it just seemed easier to indulge.

He started haltingly, stopping and starting often and rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous tic as he tried to describe Astoria. But as he got more and more into it, he talked faster and a little louder, his hands moving animatedly as descriptions of Astorias various personality traits turned into stories that perfectly highlighted said traits. For her part, Ampere listened with rapt attention, reacting with shock gasps, exclamations of disbelief, and delighted laughter at all the right points. For nearly two hours Powerglide just sat there, retelling some of the more outrageous adventures he and Astoria had inadvertently shared, talking about the woman freely and openly for the first time since she died.

"Needless to say, we weren't terribly surprised when we were pretty much banned from going back to Cincinnati for the rest of the summer," he finished with a casual 'what can you do?' shrug.

"I can't believe you guys DID that!" Ampere near shrieked with laughter, clapping her hands together.

"Well in all fairness, I think all the boredom leading up to it made us both slightly crazy," Powerglide admitted.

That prompted even more laughter from the femme, until she was just about falling over, she was laughing so hard.

"Oh Primus," she gasped. "You two were practically made for each other: you're crazy enough to do anything and she's crazy enough to go along for the ride."

Powerglide looked down as he recalled other memories with the woman, his humorous grin behind his mask shrinking into something fonder, more reflective.

Ampere's hysterical laughter calmed to hiccupping giggles, which she covered with one hand. Powerglide tilted his head and looked at her curiously.

"Why did I go and tell you all that?" he asked. It was meant to be rhetorical, but Ampere lowered her hand and answered anyway with a shrug.

"I think it's because you don't have to care what I think. You can't talk to any of the Autobots because you have a reputation, and you can't talk to some random human because you can't trust them not to blab your story all over the news for the sake of getting their five minutes of fame. The next best thing available for us is the enemy you don't have to face when you go home tonight. And if it went badly, we can just shoot at each other in the next fight and no one will be the wiser."

Powerglide stared at her, surprised at her perception and her assessment of him.

Ampere stood and dusted off the dirt from her person.

"Speaking of which, I've got to start heading back myself," she said. "I'm going to be late getting back to base as it is. Hopefully Skywarp will be on monitor duty, he doesn't care about bots being back on time."

All at once, it was as if they both remembered who they were and where they were. Ampere let her hands fall to her sides, looking down at nothing.

"Powerglide…" she said slowly, apologetically. "…I don't want to fight you. But next time we meet, I can't…"

She looked up at him with optics that were just a shade too shiny (or was that just the angle of the sun that made them look like that?).

"…I can't afford to hold back."

Powerglide met her gaze evenly.

"I don't think I'll be able to hold back either," he admitted. "At the very least, I'm going to have to protect myself and my teammates."

Ampere nodded once in understanding, as the lines were once again drawn between them.

She stepped away, down off the rise and back towards the road. She stopped, paused, and half turned back to speak over her shoulder.

"I know you probably won't believe me," she said. "But for what it's worth…I'm so sorry for your loss."

With that parting, she transformed and drove back onto the road. Powerglide just sat and watched her until she disappeared into the horizon. Only then did he get up and experimentally transform. His self repair systems had been working on his damaged wing, and while he wouldn't be able to pull off any aerial stunts, he was in good enough condition to fly back to the Ark. His patrol wasn't done, granted, but it was a fake patrol anyway and no one was really going to care if he went back early.

Ironhide happened to be leaving as Powerglide landed at the Ark entrance. The van raised an optic ridge as the plane touched down in front of him.

"Yah cooled off now?" he asked, part question, part challenge.

"Yeah, I am," Powerglide answered simply.

Ironhide actually seemed taken aback by the straightforward, honest answer. Powerglide just went right past him to get inside.

It was true, too. He felt better than he had in months. That wasn't to say it didn't still hurt, or that he was completely okay now – he missed her horribly, would always miss her. But he felt like he had been carrying a dark, oppressive cloud over him and he just now managed to get out from under it. He had avoided talking about Astoria, refused to talk to anyone about it, because it just hurt too much, remembering what had happened to her, imagining what she must have experienced, and thinking about everything that had been lost. But rather than depressing him further, talking about Astoria out loud to someone, reliving some of their stories was far more cathartic than he would have imagined.

It reminded him that he still had so many wonderful memories. It also made him realize that he didn't want to taint them with his anger and pain. Ironically, it took a fragging Decepticon to help him pull his own head out of his aft before he had a chance to completely self destruct.

Powerglide slowed his walk as his thoughts turned to the red and yellow femme. The next time they saw each other, more likely than not it would be on opposite sides of the battle field. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he could attack her now. But he would have too, like he said before, if only to defend himself and protect his fellow Autobots. Besides, when all was said and done, she was still a Decepticon by choice, and she still followed Megatron. Powerglide couldn't afford to lose his perspective because of a single encounter.

Still, he really hoped he wouldn't be ordered to attack her directly. He had no idea what he would do then, but it was already filling him with a sense of dread.

Ampere was right about a few things, but there was one thing she was wrong about one important matter.

"_I know you probably won't believe me. But for what it's worth…I'm so sorry for your loss."_

She was wrong. Primus help him, he did believe her.

….

….

….

(He also spent the rest of the week as Wheeljacks assistant and lab-rat for the experiments too dangerous for the Engineer to try for himself as per a torqued off Red Alerts orders, but that's another story entirely).

oOoOoOo

Ampere was lying on her back on her berth, hands behind her head, just staring up at the ceiling, thinking.

It had been days since her encounter with the Autobot Powerglide, and she still couldn't stop thinking about it.

'_Annoying little glitch,'_ she thought, but it held no bite. She was mostly annoyed with herself for letting her emotions get the best of her.

She was a soldier, who fought for the Decepticon cause and lived to serve Megatron. She could admit privately that she didn't like everything that Megatron did, or the way he ran the army sometimes, but she firmly believed in the Decepticon tenants, the basic goals they were fighting for, and would gladly fight and die for them.

And yet…

Ampere rolled over onto her side so that she was facing the wall.

She wasn't sure what it was, but Powerglide reminded her of someone she had once knew, probably from before the war. Someone who had been brash and adventurous and a daredevil who loved to be the center of attention, but was secretly one of the sweetest mechs she had ever known. Mountain of a mech too, he had easily been at least three times her size. Now that she thought about it, he had probably been a shuttle, like what's-his-face, Skyfire.

Of course, Ampere couldn't actually remember this mech of hers. All she had were vague impressions that there had once been someone, and a conviction that he had been very important to her. She didn't even remember his name.

'_How do you mourn the loss of someone you can barely remember?_' she thought sadly

And how do you fight an enemy who was now more than just an anonymous face in the crowd?

oOoOoOo

Scrapper was, if nothing else, a practical mech.

Considering that his teammates consisted of an obsessive perfectionist, a cackling mad scientist, and a borderline packrat with self esteem issues…really, it could easily be said that Scrappers best claim to fame was that he was the one who DIDN'T have some kind of major personality disorder. He wasn't even ever officially made leader of the Constructicons. It just fell to him because several someone's figured it would be a good idea to put the least crazy one in charge.

But we're getting beside's the point. The point is, Scrapper is a practical mech. Part of being the practical mech that he is means being willing to reserve judgment until he has enough facts to make a fair assessment.

Take the new bots for example. Rather than dismissing them out of hand as cannon fodder at best, Scrapper held back forming his own opinions until he could observe how they would perform on the battlefield and integrate into the base's existing dynamics. He developed a light admiration for their closeness to each other early on – it was almost gestalt like, really – and was frankly glad they had that much loyalty at least. But they spent so much time to themselves or to their duties, Scrapper never got much of a chance to see _their_ true colors as individuals. Even after nearly four weeks, he barely knew much more about each of them than he did when they first arrived.

So when he came across Datum alone in the mess hall, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head with only his knee beneath the table ledge keeping his balance, Scrapper took the opportunity to round out his observations

"Well, this is a special occasion," he started as he approached. "I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen without either of your cohorts in arms reach."

Datum started slightly, and upon seeing who it was standing across the table, lowered his seat so it was flat on the floor again while lowering his arms to rest against the table top. Not tense, so much as prepared.

"Believe it or not, we are capable of standing on our own," Datum said in a carefully neutral tone.

Scrapper held a hand up.

"Relax Datum, I'm not here to bait you into a fight," he said. "I'm not interested in a mechly-mech battle for dominance."

Datums lips quirked in a grin.

"Well, considering how much the rest of your team likes me, you can't blame me for being a little cautious. Some of them are under the impression that I'm invading their turf and that my very existence is a blight to their art and an insult to their skills and a comment about prior work being, horror upon horrors, substandard."

"You've already spoken with Hook, I take it?"

"You know, I don't think I've ever been told to go slag off and die so eloquently before."

"So long as Hook doesn't have any tools in his hands and you stay out of arms reach, you probably don't have anything to worry about from him."

"…I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

"Where are your hip attachments anyway?" Scrapper asked. Datum paused briefly, as if considering the question, before he answered.

"If you're really curious, Megatron wanted to know if Ampere's Imps could be used to detect unorthodox energy sources, like those ruby mines you guys found when you first got here. She's been doing insane recon trips trying to figure out just that all week. Freerun's here, he's just been a little…delayed."

Datum tilted his head to the side. Scrapper followed the cue, and found what the computer had been finding so entertaining.

Freerun stood across the room, two cubes in hand, and by the looks of it had been intercepted by Skywarp. They were too far away to be overheard, but Freerun at least was smiling and they were both talking animatedly. Scrapper could have chalked it up as being an amiable conversation between two soon to be friends…if Skywarp hadn't been standing _just_ too close and kept giving the smaller mech quick, friendly touches on top of the head and shoulder that happened just a _bit_ too often.

"He didn't waste any time," Scrapper noted.

"Yep," Datum agreed simply.

The frontloader looked back over at the unperturbed computer.

"You wouldn't be so amused if you knew about Skywarps reputation," Scrapper said/warned.

"Actually I have, if you're referring to the 'love 'em and leave 'em' rep of his," Datum corrected, not looking away from the 'show'. "Kind of hard not to – Ramjet is a nutcase, but he likes his dirty gossip. Freerun thinks more than half of it's made up, but that still leaves half of a pretty mind boggling list."

Scrapper reared his head back slightly in shock. He had a bit of respect before for the new bot's sense of group unity, but the way how Datum was dismissing Freerun…

He was reminded of what had happened shortly after his team came to Earth. Skywarp had taken a liking to Scavenger, and the young and entirely too eager to please Constructicon had been oblivious to Skywarps intentions. To be fair, the Seeker hadn't been trying to be secretive, Scavenger simply hadn't been worldly enough to pick up on the cues. So, the Constructicons had come down on Skywarp on his behalf, and "informed" him, in no uncertain terms, what would happen if there was any…untoward behavior against any of their gestalt.

Skywarp never bothered Scavenger again.

Because that was what teammates were supposed to do: watch out for each other, not just on the battlefield, but off it as well. So to see Datum speak of his teammate so carelessly…Scrapper felt his budding respect drop a few levels to below the underwater basement.

"So you decided to watch from the sidelines while Skywarp pulls the same tricks on of your own teammates?" Scrapper asked, not bothering to hide his disgust.

"Hardly." Datum replied with a grin. "I'm just waiting for Skywarp to fall flat on his face when Freerun rejects him with every fiber of his being."

Scrapper glanced over at the Runner and Seeker in time to see Freerun laugh at something Skywarp said.

"Yes, he certainly looks incredibly repulsed and disgusted by the attention," he deadpanned. "How will Skywarp ever recover from such a brutal rejection?"

"They haven't gotten to the part where Freerun explains that he only dates femmes," Datum informed him.

"Which Skywarp will take as 'playing hard to get' and amp up the charm and humor until your buddy is ready to crawl into his berth and _beg_ to be jacked," Scrapper retorted, getting annoyed.

"Which won't ever happen," Datum countered patiently, "because Freerun _only_ dates femmes. Ever. Literally."

Scrapper stared at Datum oddly.

"Is that Freerun's way of trying to signal his interest in Ampere?" he guessed.

"Ew, no. She's like a big sister to the both of us. I mean in general."

"….Freerun HAS noticed our femme-mech population ratio is a bit lopsided, right?"

"It's his number one complaint, actually."

"So is he trying to discreetly announce his celibacy?"

Datum laughed.

"I suspect it's more like he's acutely aware of the physical image he presents," the scientist explained, "especially compared to the larger, bulkier soldiers that tend to overpopulate the Decepticon forces," Datum said with a shrug. "He'd rather have that image flipped, as it were, by being with a femme who is far more often than not going to be his size or smaller."

"Ah," Scrapper said with a nod, recalling how the purple Seeker practically towered over the comparatively diminutive Freerun.

Well, he could see the logic now, if Freerun was the type who'd rather be the…dominate one in encounters. Somehow he couldn't see Skywarp yielding to such a thing.

"So why isn't he telling Skywarp off now and saving everyone the time?" Scrapper asked.

"Because Freerun is a special kind of dense and hasn't figured out Skywarps intentions yet," Datum replied with an anticipatory grin. "Watching what happens when he does figure it out is a special sort of fun for me."

A bright orange streak ("Sorry!") vaulted one handed across the table ("Can't stay!") between the two mechs while dropping off the two cubes he had been carrying and landed on the other side running ("Gotta go!") only to leap again in a flip over another table to bounce off the wall ("Seeya later!") and disappear out the door, all in less than three seconds.

Scrapper blinked.

Skywarp, now leaning heaving over empty space, blinked.

Datum sighed.

"Darn, I missed the look on his face," Datum said in mild disappointment. "But the desperate running for his life was particularly good today, so it wasn't a total waste. Since Freerun couldn't make it after all, and you don't seem particularly busy, care to join me?"

Scrapper came back to reality and noticed the cubes that Freerun had dropped off in his mad dash, with only minor spillage from the hasty retreat. Datum was already lifting one to his lips, and the other was sitting all alone on the table. Scrapper looked at it for a second, before he shrugged and took a seat. No point letting the cube go to waste, and he could further round out his observations of the scientist while he was at it.

At least Datum wasn't quite as cruel as he had almost appeared before, which was a relief. They had enough sadistic psychos in the ranks, thank you very much, and they didn't need one more.

oOoOoOo

"Powerglide."

The plane halted his movement at his name. The voice was familiar, but the flat tone almost made it unrecognizable until he saw the speaker, leaning with one arm against an open doorway.

"Jazz?" he said in surprise at the unusually serious 3iC. "What's up?"

"I'm gonna be frank, Powerglide: I need t' talk t' ya about what happened on your patrol."

The minibot felt his internals freeze.

There was no way Jazz could know what had _actually_ happened. All he could know was that he pretty much blatantly disregarded order's and attacked a Decepticon on his own. That was bad enough, but if that was all, then he could handle to fallout from that. It certainly wasn't as bad as shooting the breeze with a Decepticon for a couple of hours – that wasn't exactly going to look all that great to anyone. Frag, if he had heard someone else doing it yesterday, he'd have been fit to tear that mech apart to his base components for fraternizing with the enemy.

Jazz came forward to place a hand on Powerglides shoulder and lowered himself slightly to a less intimidating level.

"Relax, I ain't here t' bust ya," he said with a small smile. But he turned serious again. "Thing is, if you were with one of th' new Cons – Ampere, Freerun, or Datum – then I've gotta know what'cha talked about and what happened. And I know you're not gonna like this, but I gotta know every detail."

Powerglide pulled back.

"Why's it so important?" he asked, trying to sound flippant but coming off as too defensive. "Nothing really happened. I saw a 'Con alone, I engaged, we fought a bit, she got away and I had to come back because she clipped my wing. That's it."

"Powerglide, I know you did not just try to lie t' my face."

In hindsight, it had been a pretty stupid idea to try.

"Look, we can talk in m' office," Jazz offered, gesturing to the open door behind him. "What you tell me won't go any further than these walls, I promise. But I'm on an assignment t' find out who exactly these guys are and where they came from. I've got a suspicion, but I need your help t' see if I'm on the right track or not."

Powerglide tried not to fidget, but under Jazz's look it was hard not to. On one hand, he wasn't comfortable talking to anybody about what had just happened with Ampere. It felt private and personal, and certainly none of Jazz's business no matter how 'official' it was or how well meaning he might be.

But on the other hand, he couldn't very well hamper a superior officer's investigation either. Besides, while the mech was infamous for knowing about just about everything that went on in the Ark (without Red Alerts cameras, which made him extra scary), he wasn't a blabber mouth or a gossip. He had a lot of respect for a mechs privacy, so he knew when to keep his mouth shut. Even Powerglide had to admit, even if he didn't actually want to talk, he could at least trust Jazz not to repeat any of it, barring a life or death situation necessitating it.

"…Just you then?" he asked.

"Just me," Jazz promised.

Powerglide rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, let his hand fall, and finally nodded.

"Fine. But I'm only saying all this once."

"That's all I'm askin' for," Jazz said, moving aside to allow the minibot in.

oOoOoOo

Another day, another battle. The Raid of the Day: a power plant in the desert that gathered energy from a long string of wind turbines. This was slightly different because this time around, the goal wasn't just to grab energon and run, but to capture and keep the facility itself. It wouldn't provide a huge amount of energon, not enough to feed the army by itself, but a steady source would be tremendously helpful. It also came with a bonus prize for grabbing the humans and keeping them as slaves to work the controls far too tiny for the giant robots to use. Of course, naturally the Autobots weren't about to stand for this.

There was, however, one small difference.

"It's no use, Prime. We can't break through that stupid shield!" Cliffjumper reported as he ducked behind his rocky cover, frustration seeping into his voice.

"Focus on the Seekers in the air then. Just do what you can," Optimus ordered.

This time around, the Weapon of the Week wasn't a weapon at all. It was a force field, or rather a portable force field generator, powerful enough to encompass the main building, where several Decepticons had entrenched themselves and where all the humans were being held, in a translucent purplish-blue and clear dome that resembled a soap bubble.

Conventional wisdom would point out that the Decepticons had trapped themselves inside as well as they trapped the Autobots outside. But, annoyingly enough, about a third of the Decepticons present were wearing a palm sized disk magnetized somewhere on their bodies that (according a highly technical and convoluted explanation by Perceptor that nobody bothered to pay attention to) allowed said Decepticons to enter and exit the barrier at will. This allowed them to step out for a few seconds to fire gleefully at the Autobots, only to hop back to assured safety before the Autbots had a chance to return fire.

Off course, any Decepticons caught outside the field without the special key disk were left to fend for themselves, something that infuriated Starscream to epic levels of raging temper tantrums, but Megatron didn't seem particularly concerned about that.

"How's the plan, Prowl?" Optimus asked, as he chased off Dirge with a few well aimed shots. Prowl's optics dimmed slightly as he concentrated on a quick comm.

"Just a few more minutes, Prime, that's all they need," he reported.

Whether or not 'they' were going to get those few minutes was another matter entirely.

Inside the building, at the exact center of the force field, a blue scientist was kneeling by his creation, monitoring its output like an anxious mother hen. For a prototype, the generator was doing fairly well; it was a bit strained, but it wasn't critical yet. Assuming they kept it at its current level and could maintain a steady power supply (which wouldn't be too strenuous, the generator was quite efficient), they could keep the field up over this area indefinitely so long as nobody deliberately threw the figurative wrench in the works.

_: : Datum, expand the field so that it covers the entire complex. I want to force the Autobots out of hiding. : :_

Hello wrench.

_: : That's more than quintuple the current range! : : _Datum exclaimed over the comm._ : : The generator is strained as it is, I don't think it'll be able to handle that much stress all at once. : :_

_: : I do not tolerated failures. If the generator cannot do what I want, then it is useless to me…as are you. : :_

_: : Expanding the field radius now, Lord Megatron. : :_

'_You have absolutely no understanding of the scientific process, do you?_' Datum thought bitterly as he did as ordered. Starscream's patience was even worse, but at least he understood that in the trial and error stage of experimental developments, failures were the entire POINT. How else were you supposed to learn what worked, what didn't, and what you needed to tweak for better performance. You didn't grab your first built prototype and throw it on the field and expect to perform like the final product of a century or two of development! Of course, no matter what the circumstances, disobeying Megatrons direct orders was always going to be the greater of the two evils. All Datum could do was follow orders and hope it literally didn't blow up in his face.

"I really hate that guy sometimes," Datum muttered as he entered the new commands and adjusted for the energy flow.

The bubble pulsed once, twice, and expanded. Slow at first, it gained momentum as it ate up ground, swallowing up a few Decepticons and forcing back the Autobots from where they had bunkered down. Those who didn't fall back enough were literally pushed back instead.

Huffer was crouched next to a van, and didn't see the expanding field until it materialized through the van and pushed him off his feet. He tried to get up, but the wall of energy just kept pushing and forcing him off balance, until the befuddled Autobot was stuck being shoved backwards on his back with his feet up against the wall unable to get enough of a purchase to do anything. Not until he hit the wall behind him. He tried to get up, but the field was still expanding and forcing him back against the wall, pushing his elevated feet up and up and trapping him between the sturdy wall behind him and the force field that kept coming relentlessly.

"Huffer!" he heard Brawn yell. It was the first time the purple Autobot heard him sound so horrified. That was when it sunk in: he was trapped between two walls, with no leverage, no way to pull free, and only seconds until the field tried to push him through the wall that would not yield.

'_I'm going to die.'_

He heard cackling and movement, and recognized Wildriders chipper, taunting tone. "Poor little Autobot get stuck? Don't worry, I'm sure it'll only hurt for a little bit, just until your processer is crunched enough. Then you won't feel anything at all!"

Huffer splayed his arms, his neck at an excrutiating angle against the building, trying desperately to push the force field back with his legs even as his joints groaned with the extra pressure and he felt his body already suffering the strain, but not even his strength was enough; he might as well have been a fly trying to force back a train.

'_Not like this,'_ he thought desperately. _'Not like this, not like this, please Primus, not like this!_'

Datum eased the field out more and more, concentrating fully on the high pitched whines, the hot to the touch casing, the warnings of critical, dangerous levels, and trying to coax just a little more output, a few more inches, so Megatron wouldn't have an excuse to through him out in the middle of the ocean with his anti-grav thrusters torn out. His intense, focused concentration was only broken by an upward explosion of concrete and dirt as Sideswipe popped out of the floor like a giant grinning pile-driver armed gopher.

"Hi there. Missed me?" he asked cheekily.

Datum had just enough time to think 'oh sl-' before Sideswipe grabbed his gun from subspace and shot the already over taxed generator.

The apparatus, with all its densely packed energy, went up like a small bomb.

Fortunately for everyone, the room had windows that the humans had left open because of the lovely weather, so the pressure and danger of the explosion was reduced to a non-lethal (for a Transformer) level. Sideswipe was able to duck down into the tunnel and Windcharger had hurriedly dug out to avoid most of the danger, but Datum was not so lucky. The scientist was knocked back clear across the room until he smacked against the wall, sliding down again bonelessly.

Outside, the expanding field flickered and winked out of existence.

Wildriders cackles stopped abruptly as the nearly upside down vertical Huffer suddenly fell flat when the crushing supporting wall disappeared from under him. The quick and quiet development left nearly every Decepticon briefly stunned and disoriented. The Autobots, who had been expecting it, took full advantage of it.

Wildrider squawked as he took a hit to the shoulder, randomly firing back in Brawns general direction even as he fell back to the rest of his gestalt. Huffer just kept laying there on the ground staring blankly up at the pretty blue sky and wondering what the heck just happened. It wasn't until Brawn pulled him roughly to his pedes with a gruff 'get up and move it you dolt!' that was belied by a grip still trembling by the near scare that he realized two things: no, he was not dead, and yes, there was still a battle going on and he should probably get out of the way now.

For the Decepticons, the battle quickly degenerated into chaos after that. Megatron furiously tried to get his troops back in order, but their rhythm had been lost and the relentless Autobots weren't giving them a chance to get it back, and his usual short temper wasn't helping matters in the slightest. Even Menasor had been taken out of the battle when Wildrider became too damaged to combine thanks to a rather irate Brawn. Plus, let's face it, the Decepticons had never been terribly organized as a whole to begin with, outside of small groups and gestalts.

Now, Tracks wasn't the type to get giddy in a fight – that was Sideswipes shtick, the freak – but this particular battle was going so well for them, with no serious injuries being incurred and a promise of a quick victory, he couldn't help but feel excited.

Surveillance had indicated that the humans were being kept in the supply shed behind the main building. Tracks was to make his way there and save them before Megatron or someone else remembered they were there and used them as hostages. So Tracks drove his faster car mode around the thickest of the battle, where all the Decepticons were nice and distracted. In one smooth move (because he's just so cool like that, don't you know?) he transitioned form driving car to running mech, turning the corner to the shed entrance.

Unfortunately, he had not been the first to get there.

"EEK!"

_ZA-AP!_

Tracks collapsed mostly on his side and half on his face like a puppet with his strings cut, the two pricks on either side of his neck still throbbing from the twin punctures and the sudden, intense surge of energy. It was all he _could_ feel; the rest of him was totally numb.

He couldn't see it, but Ampere was standing over him, Imps still out over her shoulders, looking as surprised by the turn of events as Tracks had been.

"….Well, at least you're just an Autobot," she said primly.

Tracks had no comment.

It was becoming painfully obvious that the battle was already lost to the Decepticons. Their only option was to cut their losses and take what they could, and the retreat order came within minutes. Every 'Con who could grabbed as many cubes as possible and fled, the others covering their retreat with gun fire, leaving their victory behind with the Autobots.

Starscream didn't even wait until they were back at the base before he started rubbing the defeat in Megatrons face.

"That was simply surpurb, Megatron!" he 'praised.' "Such a clever plan, so subtle in its machinations even _I_ am having trouble seeing how it was any different from all the other ones! If you had deigned to give your own second one of the shield bypass devices, then perhaps the battle wouldn't have been so horrendously lost!"

Megatron, not being in the mood for a snark fest, simply shot Starscream out of the sky and left it to Thundercracker to catch him.

"Most of the failure lies with the rest of you being too incompetent to fall back in order like _real_ Decepticon warriors," Megatron growled at large to his now thoroughly nervous audience. "But the rest of it falls to our so called scientist and his failed invention."

"But at least it was not a total waste, Megatron," Ampere cut in quickly, deflecting attention away from Datum. "We did not leave empty handed."

"Fool!" Megatron yelled, backhanding the femme and sending her tumbling through the air until she was able to stabilize herself.

"A few cubes does not excuse failure!" he added.

"But we have more than just cubes, my lord," Ampere put in.

Starscream, hovering again because his pride wouldn't allow him to be carried back if he was still even remotely flight capable, snorted.

"Well, feel free to enlighten us as to what this FANTASIC prize is that you managed to smuggle away in your subspace. I'm sure it's worth ALL the effort that went into today."

Amperes optics dimmed briefly as she sent out a quick message over the comm.

Seconds later, Skywarp materialzed in the center of the group.

"Skywarp? Where have you been! I didn't give you permission to…" Starscream trailed off as he realized what his trinemate was holding in his arms: the Autobot Tracks, being held around the chest and limp and harmless as a doll, still in the throes of Amperes Imp induced paralysis.

Slightly mollified, Megatron smirked. "Perhaps you are right, Ampere: this day may be salvaged after all."

Discreetly, Ampere 'sighed' with relief. Freerun, having been commandeered to hold his cubes and Skywarps after the femme had pulled him away to take Tracks away from the battle field as their prisoner before the Autobots had a chance to notice what was going on, relaxed as well. Ampere had taken the heat off of Datum, at least for the moment, and she was even able to pacify Megatron enough to avoid taking the beating in his place. Failed mission or not, that was plenty good enough in his book.

Strangely though, seeing Tracks completely helpless and at the mercy of the Decepticons, pit, at the mercy of _Skywarp_ who he didn't entirely trust not to 'accidentally' drop the Autobot just for kicks…it was making him uneasy, moreso than it should have.

_Stop it_, he ordered himself. You said you weren't going to do this_. Even on the tiny tiny chance that you might have known him once, he's still and Autobot – an enemy! Whatever he gets, he's had it coming to him._

Sadly, processor over matter didn't seem towork for fuel tanks rolling in unfounded anxiety. Maybe he should talk to Datum about an anti-stupid-sentimentality chip before he got himself killed for a mech who would happily put a gun to his own head.

Wait…

Freerun glanced around (as best he could when juggling too many cubes) at the assembled Decepticons. Tanks sinking, he failed to find one particular face.

"Where's Datum?" he asked, going for calmly curious and not quite succeeding.

The blank looks and looking around motions of everyone else, and the look of horrified realization from Ampere was answer enough.

oOoOoOo

Datum came too with a horrendous processor ache and a dent he could already feel in his helm. Grimacing, not on lining his optics just yet because he didn't want to let the bright light make the pain any worse, he gingerly lifted one hand to probe where the back of his head came in intimate contact with the wall.

Ka-klick.

"Don't move."

Datum froze. His optics lit up as he on lined them at last, and he slowly turned his head to the left.

Standing right there with a gun trained on him was the Autobot Second in Command, the weapon as steady as a rock and his wings held high in alert.

"So, do I still need to formally surrender, or do we just operate on the assumption that I already have?" Datum asked.

* * *

**AN:** "You are dead." "And yet, I feel fine!" Credit for the joke goes to Wayward and her Insecticomics. Google it and laugh yourselves sick.


	6. Questions and Answers

**AN**: There are a couple of Shout Outs in this chapter to Shylights story "Snap, Crackle, Pop", which is absolutely hilarious and is spot on in character portrayal. It's incomplete, but I highly recommend it to anyone who wants a good laugh.

The information on Tracks, I gleaned from tfwikia, which will devour several hours of your life it you troll carelessly.

On another note….

Remember how I said that I would NOT be including slash in this story, out of respect for those who aren't comfortable with it? I also decided to exclude it because I didn't want to have to worry about having to hold too many threads together or keeping all the story elements balanced in a juggling act. Then, not too long ago, I remembered something rather obvious.

I'm writing this story for _fun_.

I had seriously considered adding slash before because I thought it would be _fun_.

So I'm now going to include elements of slash, because it might be _fun_ to try.

I understand that many of you are not comfortable with slash, and I understand that perhaps a few of you will be disappointed. You will not hurt my feelings if you choose not to continue. Fortunately, my other three stories are slash-free, so feel free to browse for something closer to your tastes.

But, to clarify: this is NOT meant to be a pairing story or a romance, and I'm certainly not going to bother writing out and explicitly stating every pairing that may or may not exist here. Heck, this story is still quite fluid and might not even end up including actual on-screen slash at all, depending how the story ends up flowing. But "slash", however you believe it does or does not apply to alien robots, will now be a part of the background of this story. How big a focus it'll get, and how it will affect certain relationships (I'm looking at you, Littlemeaneppershaker) will depend entirely on how the plot goes. It's just my way of keeping my story options and character development choices open.

Because I flip flop like a flip-flopping thingy.

With that in mind, you might want to reread Chapter 5. I had to change a certain scene to match with the new rules.

* * *

Chapter 6 – Questions and Answers

"We have to go back for him!"

Predictably, this was Freerun's first response upon discovering that Datum was missing and what the most likely reason for that was. He would have gone on, but Ampere had been quick to slap a hand over his mouth and drag him aside. Well, dragged him as well as a bot could when they were both floating among the clouds. She had to calmly but firmly explain to him that for them to essentially sacrifice their larger-than-average energon haul and lose a (sort of) valuable prisoner to save one Decepticon was tactically foolhardy. More so after taking into account that said lost Decepticon was being guarded and transported by half the Autobot army who were probably more than a little peeved already. While Ampere and Freerun would certainly risk anything for their friend, they didn't have the resources to do it on their own and Megatron had to put the needs and welfare of his army as a whole before a single mech, something that Freerun eventually – with a few obscenities and one good head thump – came to grudgingly accept.

An hour or two later they were back underwater in the Nemesis, with the energon cubes stored and accounted for, and the still limp Autobot in a crumpled heap in one of the lesser used cells. With all their figurative ducks in a row now, it was now time to discuss an appropriate plan for getting Datum back quickly and safely.

It was a very short discussion.

"WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ WE'RE NOT GOING BACK FOR HIM?!"

Megatron half turned and pinned Freerun with a cold look.

"I mean exactly what I said. Any Decepticon foolish enough to get himself captured should be able to escape and come back on his own. If he can't, he is not worth having in my army. As a Decepticon…"

He narrowed his optics in part warning, part challenge.

"…you should be fully aware of this."

Ampere popped up between Megatron and Freerun like a ground hog on February 28th.

"He IS fully aware of this, I assure you Lord Megatron!" She said quickly, holding an arm back as if trying to keep Freerun behind her. "He's just, ah, overly enthused you could say."

"The PIT I am!" Freerun snapped, elbowing his way past Ampere and (to her horror and everyone else's astonishment) marched right up to the Warlord. Going toe to toe with Megatron would have been a great deal more impressive if said mech wasn't nearly twice his size.

"In case you forgot, Datum's a freaking scientist, not a spy or a soldier or special fragging ops! He doesn't have the resources or the training to escape on his own – what's he supposed to do, talk to them and say pretty please? We can't just leave him to the Autobots!"

Megatron grabbed Freerun by the neck and lifted him up as easily as if he weighed no more than air, until they were optic to optic. Freerun grabbed Megatrons black hand with both his own as his pedes kicked helplessly a little above Megatrons knees.

"_I_ am the Supreme Commander of this Army, not you," Megatron growled. "You will do well to remember that, if you wish to survive much longer."

Megatron promptly threw Freerun across the room with enough force to keep the smaller mech rolling until he collided with the wall with a loud BANG.

Ampere made a move to go over to him, but was halted by a firm grip on her shoulder. She whirled around angrily, but stopped when she saw who it was, more out of surprise than anything.

"If you go to him now, you'll only make it worse," Thundercracker said in a quiet voice only she could hear. "At least wait until Megatron is out of the room."

Ampere's hands fisted angrily at being told to wait on the sidelines, but she had to trust the more experienced Seeker in this and she knew it. Fraggit.

Freerun pushed himself up stiffly, but froze as he heard the heavy footsteps of Megatron approaching. He didn't look up, just waited as he stopped just in front of him.

"Consider this your only warning, Runner," Megatron said. "Otherwise, I might have to wonder if you'd be better suited with the soft-sparked _Autobots_."

Freeruns stiffened as his face twisted in disgusted anger, as if Megatron had called him an unspeakable slur. For a moment, Ampere was terrified that Freerun would get angry enough to confront Megatron again or, Primus forbid, attack him.

Freerun stayed down and didn't say a word, though there were minute trembles to betray his repressed anger.

Satisfied that his newest recruit understood his place, Megatron turned back to the assembled Decepticons.

"What are you lot waiting for? Get back to your stations. Now."

The mechs wisely scattered. Ampere hovered at the edge of the wide room, waiting until Megatron had disappeared down one of the adjacent halls before she hurried over to Freerun. The orange mech was just pushing himself up as Ampere dropped next to him, but she softly asked if he was alright and rested a hand on his shoulder, his only response was a gruff 'I'm fine' as he shook off the femmes hand. He stood and stalked angrily away out of the room, not even glancing back. Ampere watched him go from her place still kneeling on the floor, with a mix of hurt and worry.

Thundercracker frowned slightly at Freeruns treatment of his teammate, but only paused a moment before he left as well, following Skywarp. Their team dynamics were none of his business.

oOoOoOo

Red Alert was the type of mech who had a very small comfort zone. There were few places he felt he could be at ease, where he felt a measure of safety and control. Not surprisingly, the Security Hub was one of those places: the central eye of the Ark where he could watch everything, control everything and _know_ without a doubt that if there was coming danger he _would_ see it, and he _could_ take measures to stop it. So it was no surprise that getting Red Alert to leave the Hub and allow someone else to take a shift was about as hard as getting Prowl to take a vacation.

Come to think of it, Red Alert wondered if Jazz and Bluestreak had been having any progress on that front. He should talk to Smokescreen, he might be offering better odds now.

There was a knock at the door. Red Alert took a quick look at one small screen to see who it was before unlocking the door and admitting the mech inside.

"Hey Red. Ah come bearin' gifts." Inferno announced cheerfully in his familiar drawl. True to his word he was carrying two energon cubes.

Red Alert swiveled around in his seat and greeted his jovial friend with a small smile. As mentioned, Red Alert had a very small comfort zone, and Inferno was on the (extremely) short list of bots who could enter it.

"So, how's our 'Con holdin' up?" Inferno asked as he passed a cube to his seated friend.

Red Alert frowned. "Well, you can see for yourself right here."

The red and white Lamborghini gestured to one of the most prominent screens, the one displaying the brig cell currently housing the Decepticon. Said Decepticon was passively laying on his berth, hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling with his legs crossed at the ankles. For all appearances, the blue computer was a regular mech enjoying a quiet moment to relax, not a prisoner of war being held in the enemy's stronghold. He was even rocking one foot up and down as if in tune to a beat only he could hear.

"Hasn't done much of anything then, I take it?" Inferno surmised as he took a seat.

"I don't like it Inferno," Red Alert admitted, still watching the screen. "Anyone else would be moving, pacing. They would be nervous, or at the very least angry and belligerent. He has to be up to something, preparing for something. He's just too _calm_."

"Ya think he let himself get captured on purpose?"

"I don't know this Decepticon. I can't risk underestimating what he is capable of."

"Red, the mech was found unconscious by Prowl after getting blasted by an explosion Sideswipe caused. Pit, we brought him here in stasis cuffs, and he ain't been alone for one second since then – even now yer keepin' an optic on him. No way he could've predicted that happenin', let alone planned on it."

"He might not have expected exactly HOW he would be captured, but he might still have created a contingency plan on that eventuality," Red Alert countered. "Even if he didn't, he might be planning to take advantage of the situation as it has presented itself."

"Maybe, but maybe the reason he's all cool and calm is because he knows Autobots don't torture their prisoners, and since Megatron has Tracks he probably figures he's getting out sooner than later in a prisoner exchange."

"He has no way of knowing that," Red Alert pointed out. "As you said, he spent most of the battle off-line. He couldn't know that Tracks, or anyone, has been taken."

"Well, okay, but the rest still stands. He ain't actin' all worried because, all in all, he hasn't got THAT much to be worried about. Now if he were _Starscream_ he'd have lots of reason to be worried."

"Perhaps," Red Alert conceded slowly. "But his unnatural behavior is still putting me on edge, and I don't like it."

"Well, even if he is plannin' something, he ain't gonna get away with it with you watchin' him," Inferno concluded as he took a sip of his cube. "Mechs got no idea who he's dealin' with."

Red Alert smiled marginally into his cube. Most others would mock his paranoia, but he could count on Inferno to talk him seriously and trust in his judgment, even when he was trying to talk him down to a calmer level. Movement on the screen brought his attention back up.

"It seems Jazz has arrived," Red Alert noted.

The 3iC had spoken to him earlier to let him know that he would be speaking to the prisoner, and now that he had come around, Red Alert straightened up in his seat to watch. Autobots may not torture, but there were other ways to get information, and the intelligent, charismatic, intuitive Jazz was a master and tricking others into revealing facts they would otherwise die to protect.

"Yo. What's up?" Jazz greeted cheerfully as he came near the occupied cell. "Sorry 'bout the accommodations, but you dropped by on such short notice we didn't have time to set up something nicer."

Datum gave no indication he even heard. He just kept staring straight up at the ceiling, rocking his foot back and forth as steady as a metronome.

"Yeah, I hear ya," Jazz went on amiably, leaning against the opposite wall. "Ya come all the way over for a visit, and we don't even give ya a book file t' pass the time. Or maybe you're more the non-fiction type, you seem like th' sort."

"It's not going to work." Datum said flatly.

"What, m' dastardly plan t' make small talk?" Jazz guessed with a joking grin. "Granted you're makin' it tough but I've had lots of practice with mechs a pit of a lot more reticent than you."

Datum kept staring straight up at the ceiling, foot still gently kicking.

"Lets go over the facts, shall we?" Datum said, in the same flat monotone as before of someone intensely bored with the situation. "Granted, I'm your Decepticon prisoner, which is all very well and good for you I suppose, but I'm still just a scientist. Megatrons figures having a dedicated scientist around might come in handy in the odd pinch, but until I get to a point where I can whip up a doomsday device out of an old computer and duct tape in under a week, I'm going to rank about as high up the totem pole as any other grunt, like Cozenage."

"Who the Pit is Cozenage?" a baffled Jazz asked.

"My point exactly." Datum replied. "It's not like I get to sit in at the war meetings; heck, I'm lucky if someone stops to tell me just what the game plan _is_ before we're already on the field. So I'm sorry to say you'll find my tactical value somewhat lacking."

"Maybe, but you'd be surprised by how much you DO know," Jazz pointed out.

"Well, now I really don't want to talk to you."

"Relax Datum," Jazz assured breezily, waving a hand in the air. "I'm not after security codes or battle plans or anythin' like that; I already figured a bot like you wouldn't even have that kinda stuff before I even came down here. I'm actually here cuz I wanna know about you."

Datum lifted his head and stared at Jazz.

"…Eh?"

"I've been fightin' th' 'Cons for a loooong time, as you can imagine. This whole time, I've never seen one actin' as a pseudo-pacifist willing t' risk bodily harm t' protect a neutral, let alone a human."

Datums foot stopped rocking.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He stated evenly.

"Dude, I'm th' one that shot the white van off course so it wouldn't roll right over ya."

Datums lips pressed tightly together as he laid his head back down. Jazz noted that, if Datum stared at the ceiling any harder, he was going to melt a hole through it before tomorrow.

"You're curious about me. I get that." He bit out. "That doesn't explain why I should say anything to you."

"Fair question," Jazz allowed with a quick nod. "Lemme put it this way: the more time we spend talking about you, Datum, the less time I'll have to spend "helping" you remember all the valuable intel you don't even realize you have."

Datum sat up in alarm at that.

"Autobots don't torture their prisoners! Optimus Prime wouldn't allow it!" he said, though it almost sounded like a question than a statement of fact.

"Datum, do ya honestly believe we could've survived for as long as we have against th' 'Cons if we weren't willing to bend certain rules when we had ta?" Jazz asked seriously, all traces of good humor gone.

The blue mech stared at him, lips parted slightly, and Jazz had no doubt his optics behind the visor were as wide as they could go. For the first time since being brought to the City, Datum looked afraid.

It was a low tactic, and Jazz hated himself for using it, especially if (IF!) his suspicions had any grounding. But, he had know. For all their sakes.

Datum dropped his face down and to his right, crossing his arms almost defensively.

"Fine. But I don't want to talk to you, Jazz. I don't trust you not to try and pull something."

"Well, who would you rather talk to, then?" the Porsche asked, honestly curious.

Datum considered for a long moment. "….Prowl. I'll only talk to Prowl."

"Can I ask why?" Jazz asked slowly, his fuel pump beating a little faster than it should.

"Because everyone knows that Prowl follows rules and regulations almost religiously, and if he's not the Primes most loyal officer he's at least in the top three. Going off that, I'm better off trusting him not to try and twist the rules to get what YOU want out of me."

"Offerin' a measure of cooperation while still takin' any steps ya can t' protect yourself," Jazz analyzed as he pushed himself off the wall. "Fair warnin': Prowls a busy mech, so I can't promise how soon he'll be down t' question ya. So ya might be waitin' for awhile."

Datum spread his arms out as if showcasing his surroundings. "It's not like I've got anything better to do."

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile, a few hundred miles away and several miles below the ocean surface, a certain Autobot was feeling a lot less comfortable.

Tracks had no idea how long he had been in this dimly lit cell with only the faintly glowing energy barrier for illumination. Hook had disabled his chronometer almost as soon as he had arrived. It could have been hours, it could have been an entire day already. Either way, he spent the entirety of it sitting in the middle of his cell on the floor. Not out of choice, but due to the stasis cuffs on his wrists attached to the chain on the floor that limited his range of motion. The chain gave just enough leeway so he could stand straight if he kept his arms straight down in a V, or feed himself so long as he was kneeling.

At least, he postulated as much. It wasn't like the Decepticons had bothered feeding him. Not that he would have taken their energon – slaggers probably would have drugged it. But thinking about it only made him acutely more aware of the warnings his systems were sending for his low energy levels. Nothing to panic about yet, especially since he wasn't using much energy just sitting around contemplating the walls, but it was going to be a serious issue sooner than later.

That was probably the entire point, from Megatrons perspective.

Without warning the lights flooded on. Tracks flinched and shuttered his light-starved optics against the harsh assailant. His optics shut, Tracks could hear someone approaching down the walkway, coming closer to his cell. So, Megatron had decided he'd let him stew long enough and was coming to "question" him? Well, fine. Tracks had spent his time mentally preparing himself for this eventuality. Whatever Megatron, or whichever goon he sent, had in store for him, Tracks was ready and determined to hold out for as long as he could. He would die before giving that monster the satisfaction of seeing him break.

The steps stopped in front of him, and Tracks slowly opened his optics as he adjusted to the light. He wanted to look his interrogator in the optics with all the defiance he could muster.

"Hey man, fancy meeting you here."

Tracks' optics snapped open the rest of the way in shock. He regretted it almost immediately, but it was enough to catch and recognize the tell-tale orange, white, and black markings of his "interrogator."

"Whoops. Sorry about the light, I forgot how much it'd hurt," Freerun apologized sheepishly.

"What are you doing here?" Tracks demanded, even as he rapidly shuttered his adjusting optics.

Freerun raised an optic ridge. "Uh, I live here? Decepticon base and all?"

Tracks glared.

"Alright, alright, I'll cut down on the smart-aftery," Freerun promised. "Seriously though? I bring good tidings."

As demonstration Freerun made a show of reaching behind his back and dramatically pulling out an energon cube with the flair of a magician. Tracks' optics involuntarily zeroed in on the shimmering purple cube before they glared hard at Freerun.

"Relax, it's not poisoned or nothing," Freerun assured. As proof, he took a small sip with a smile.

"Am I supposed to believe Megatron would waste energon feeding a prisoner?" Tracks asked with a derisive sneer.

"The Grand High Bucket Head doesn't know I'm here, and the guy watching the monitors is the last bot on the planet who'd give a frag about what I'm doing." Freerun informed him lightly.

"Let me guess: Dead End?"

"He got it in one, give the mech a prize." Freerun said with a grin. "Listen buddy, I'm on a bit of a time crunch, so I'm going to go ahead and cut to the chase: I'm going to ask you a four questions, and maybe a couple of follow up questions depending how this goes, and you're going to answer them straight up. Every time you lie or refuse to answer a question, I take a sip of this energon. If you don't answer, I'll keep asking and sipping until you talk or the cubes empty, whatever happens first. After the fourth question, I give you the rest of the energon. How much you get is entirely dependent on your cooperation. Simple and easy, right? Do we have a deal?"

"I'm not selling out the Autobots for one lousy cube!" Tracks spat out angrily.

"I'm not asking you to," Freerun replied, as he settled himself comfortably on the floor just outside the energy barrier that separated the Decepticon from the Autobot. "But I get your point: you don't want to agree without knowing what the questions are gonna be. So how about I go ahead and start, and you decide for yourself if they're worth answering, okay?"

Tracks kept his stony silence.

"I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a yes," Freerun decided. "So, Question One: what are you to the Autobots?"

Tracks frowned and turned the question over in his head. It was rather vague and open ended, so it was hard to say what sort of answer Freerun was looking for exactly…which meant the Decepticon couldn't fault him for giving him less than detailed information.

"I'm essentially just a foot soldier," he answered slowly. "I pack a good amount of heat, and I have a couple of good tricks to my name, but I'm not an officer or even officer material. I'm hardly indispensible."

Tracks' innate sense of vanity wanted to curl up and die, but the more logical part of him thought that, if he could downplay his importance, it would encourage the rest of the Decepticons that he wasn't worth their time. A little cowardly, perhaps, but whatever it took to get through this experience in one piece.

"Tricks. Right," Freerun said flatly. "Like that black-beam gun of yours for silent kills, or your two launcher shafts that can deploy two flaming heat seeking incendiary missiles for something a bit flashier, right? Not to mention your not-so-secret mini-wings you keep hidden in your alt mode for short flights."

Tracks stared at him.

"I've been reading up on you and most of the fights you've been in," Freerun explained casually. "That first question was more of test, to see whether you'd be willing to answer, and if you're open to answering more or less truthfully."

Tracks said nothing, but that Freerun had been researching him was making him a bit uneasy. Just why was this random stranger so keenly interested in him, personally?

Whatever the reason, Tracks was already having a bad feeling about it.

"Right then, Question Two!" Freerun announced. "We got a lot on your after the war started, but zip from before. So how about your history in a nutshell? Where were you sparked, raised, how and when you joined the Autobots and why. And just the sparknotes please, I don't need all the dirty details right now."

"Why would you want to know that much?" Tracks asked.

Freerun stared at him silently for a moment, before he took a deliberate, generous sip from the cube.

"You don't get to asked me anything, remember?" he said as he licked his lips. "This is my house, after all, and you're the one who's currently chained to the floor staring at my energon like a hungry petro-dog. So, you wanna try that again?"

Tracks was rather intensely disliking this little cocky smart-aft. He briefly toyed with just keeping his silence just to spite him, but his hunger was a more pressing demand than his pride.

"If you absolutely MUST know, I was sparked and raised in Iacon," Tracks answered stiffly. "I traveled throughout the levels over my life, but I mostly lived in the upper-mid levels of Quadrant Beta-Z. I aligned with the Autobots early in the war, back when Sentinel Prime was still alive, though he was killed shortly after I enlisted. I did so because I trusted Sentinel Prime a Pit of a lot more than I trusted Megatron to do what was right by everyone, almost as much as I trust Optimus now."

Freerun nodded thoughtfully as Tracks spoke, absorbing all he said. "So…you joined the main Autobot army right off the bat then?"

"Well, yes. There were a few other groups early on with differing philosophies, but they tended to be too extreme in my taste. Besides, I didn't trust their organizations."

An emotion flickered across Freeruns face; something could have been either relief or disappointment. But it had come and gone before Tracks even had time to know it was there.

"Good to know," Freerun said simply. "Alright then, Question Three: have you had any major changes in your appearance in your life? Paint schemes, helm, chassis design, anything noteworthy?"

That earned Freerun a REALLY odd look from Tracks, who was beginning to mildly freak out about this whole thing. But, since it was hardly dangerous information (even if the curiosity behind it was getting a little creepy) he answered anyway.

"I upgraded for my weapons and reinforced my armor, like every other Autobot alive, but by and large I tried to maintain my original look as much as possible."

"Coming from a narcissist like you, I'm not surprised," Freerun muttered.

'_Just how thorough IS my file, anyway?'_ Tracks wondered incredulously.

Freerun put the cube down and leaned forward slightly, his expression dead serious. Unconsciously, Tracks leaned slightly forward as well.

"Last question," Freerun said gravely. "I want you to think very carefully about this one. Alright?"

Tracks nodded once, feeling uncharacteristically nervous about this final question.

When Freerun asked it, he said it carefully and enunciated every word, so that the seriousness and gravity hung tangible in the air between them.

"Do you remember me?"

Tracks reared back and shook his head slightly in confused surprise

"What? You're asking if I remember you?" he asked. He frowned in thought. "Since I can't have possibly have forgotten in the three months we've been actively fighting each other, I assume you mean from Cybertron?"

"Do you or don't you?" Freerun demanded with all traces of friendly banter gone.

Tracks shook his head slowly. "Ever since we met in the labs and you said you 'knew me', I have been racking my memories trying to place you. In all this time, I still have no recollection of you whatsoever from before that day."

Freeruns shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment, which only added to the Corvettes confusion. Why was this so important to the runner?

"Should've expected that," Freerun said with a slight, self-deprecating smile.

Tracks had nothing to say to that.

Freerun pushed himself up from the floor and stood. Tracks watched him warily, and when Freerun reached over and turned off the barrier Tracks stood in readiness, just in case the Decepticon was up to something.

But all Freerun did was bend down to place the cube on the floor, and used his foot to slide it across the floor where Tracks could easily reach it, keeping a safe distance. He may have been an odd one, Tracks noted, but he wasn't completely stupid.

Tracks waited until the barrier was safely turned back on before he knelt back down to pick up the promised cube. He had meant to sip it slowly to keep some of his dignity intact, but he had forgotten just how hungry he was, and hunger won over pride pretty quick. He downed nearly half the cube in the first couple of gulps.

"Wow," Freerun commented, clearly impressed. "How the heck do you guys do that without choking?"

"I have the energon now, I don't have to answer any more of your questions," Tracks reminded him.

"Touché."

Tracks lowered his cube to his lap.

"Why are you so convinced we know each other?" he asked. He didn't honestly expect to get a straight answer, but it couldn't hurt and the curiosity was starting to eat at him.

Freerun shrugged casually, rocking back on his heels, the pistons collapsing in to absorb the weight before they bounced him gently back up.

"We didn't exactly know each other, I just know we met at least once," Freerun said. "I forgot about it myself until I saw you in the labs. You probably remember it too, 'cept you don't remember _me_ because I was in alt mode at the time and I look a little bit different now."

Tracks inclined his head to indicate he was listening.

Freerun held up on hand flat, palm facing the ground, and slowly moved it across him.

"From what I remember, I was driving down this street one night, probably in the lower levels of Iacon, all by my lonesome, just trying to get home from, uh, someplace. Then all of a sudden, this big blue leg comes out of nowhere, from the alley to the right of me, and I just slam right into it."

Freerun pressed the fingers of his car hand against two of his fingers, illustrating a vehicle hitting a pole like structure and getting the worst of it.

"It probably hurt like the pit at the time, and if I broke your knee I honestly wouldn't be surprised. I don't remember the pain though, but I know I must've hit pretty hard – my front was all crumpled in like a crushed can almost, my windows got all cracked, and I remember feeling all light when my back end lifted clear off the ground. I bounced back, and I'm just so freaked out by what happened I just peel away and sped off down the street. Which was totally not cool of me, I know, but I think I was disoriented at the time. I know I was having a hard time steering because I could barely keep a straight line, and-"

"Get out."

Freerun halted his story and hand illustration to look at Tracks.

"Huh?"

Tracks' entire body had become rigid, his face lowered to obscure his expression, and his hands gripping the cube so tightly they trembled with the exertion.

"I said," the Autobot enunciated slowly, dangerously. "Get. Out."

Freerun kept standing there, staring at the Corvette, thrown off by the unexpected, and admittedly slightly scary mood change.

"GET OUT!" Tracks exploded, and he threw the half-empty cube at Freerun with all his might.

The cube bounced back harmlessly off the barrier. The spilt energon evaporated almost immediately once released from the container, and the empty cube itself faded out and winked out of existence.

Freerun jumped back and held his arms up as if he had been struck anyway. He scurried back and ran off down the walkway. He just barely remembered to turn off the light and hide his presence before he escaped the brig.

Tracks listened to him go, body trembling in fury.

How dare he. How DARE he. How DARE HE!

That spiteful little pit-spawn was only trying to play some sadistic mind game with him. He had been reading up on Tracks – they had never met before, that was just, just some stupid ploy to relax Tracks' guard before he went for the kill, using Raoul's memory against him without once mentioning the human's name. Freerun had absolutely nothing to gain but the sadistic pleasure of seeing Tracks' squirm with this attempt at a perverted mind game.

Tracks' hands clenched in his lap, and he pretended they were wrapped about that wretched Decepticons neck.

oOoOoOo

Everyone had a different opinion about patrol duty. Some loved it, some hated it, others were particular about what sectors they did or didn't want, a few liked it fine as an excuse to get out and cause a little bit of recreational mayhem (Drag Strip was forbidden for taking any more patrol duties for the rest of eternity, actually), and the rest frankly couldn't be bothered to care.

Thundercraker for his part was mostly indifferent, but he had to admit, he did rather like it when the route took him over places like Southern Utah, with its rich terrain of arches and canyons that promised of an exciting and thrillingly death defying game or two if he had a little time left over, which he almost always did.

(Oh come on, he couldn't be the mature, responsible one ALL the time!)

So he had a special reason for feeling displeased when he picked up a signal of Cybertronian presence as he passed over. Displeasure turned into mild surprise and a decision not to log it when he realized that he recognized the signal.

'_What's Ampere doing all the way out here by herself?'_ Thundercracker wondered as he circled around. The New Guys (as they had been oh so lovingly and creatively dubbed) where close-knit. Thundercracker couldn't remember the last time any of them had been out of the base without at least one of the others attached to their hip.

But here was the femme, out in the desert doing…just what WAS she doing anyway?

Thundercracker transformed so he could hover in the air, a few hundred feet above the oblivious femme. Said femme was floating around with her anti-grav thrusters, up, down, around pillars and doing occasional loop de loops around a handy arch. There didn't seem to be any purpose to her movements, no destination, barely even thought.

'_Wait. She's flying for the sake of flying?_' Thundercracker realized incredulously.

His disbelief was understandable. Almost all Decepticons were outfitted with anti-grav thrusters, it was one of their most valuable and underrated advantages. But outside of jet-formers, all the Decepticons treated flight simply as a way to get from Point A to Point B in the most expedient manner available. A fairly understandable sentiment, admittedly, since the thrusters weren't designed for much else. They really only had three settings: go, hover, and off. Even now, Ampere's flying and turns looked almost painfully slow and amateurish to the Seekers optics, not that she seemed to care about her performance.

Come to think of it, Ampere did tend to get jittery and restless when she was kept in base for too long, in a manner that was not entirely dissisimilar to early, mild stages of sky hunger that sometimes plagued grounded Seekers. But Thundercracker had always assumed it was because Ampere had a rather short-attention span sometimes and didn't like being cooped up for too long.

'_One of her creators was probably a flyer,'_ Thundercracker guessed, as he crossed his arms and continued to watch her. _'A Seeker maybe, which would have made her sympathetic to the Decepticons when the war started. Though why any Seeker would allow their creation to be groundbound is anyones guess.'_

For her part, Ampere remained oblivious that she had gained an audience. All she wanted was a chance to be alone and clear her head, and this little activity always helped her think and relieve stress. With everything that had been happening in the last day, she really needed both.

She turned and flew straight up, up, up until she was level with the clouds. She took a moment to take in the pure, clean scenery of blue sky and puffy clouds around her, before she spread out her arms, leaned back, off-lined her optics and let gravity kick back in.

She fell down, relishing the wind and illusion of speed that was her own and not the Earths. This was her favorite part, the shortest ride, the greatest ride. It was always too short, and she held on to the sensations for as long as she could, just a few seconds more of feeling everything she was angry and frustrated with getting left behind because she could fly so fast and far from it all.

Ampere twisted her body around so her pedes were pointing down and reactivated her anti-grav thrusters before she could hit the ground.

Except this time, she had waited too long. In horrified realization, Ampere discovered she was going too fast at too low an altitude – she didn't have the space left to slow her momentum. She had enough space left for her thrusters to slow her down to a level she could survive, but she was still going to hit the ground and it was going to _hurt_.

Ampere twisted again, flailing to turn her fall into a spin-off, but in her haste she glanced off a stone pillar. The pillar broke off and collapsed and sent Ampere into a spinning fall that left her dizzy. She crossed her arms over her face and braced for the inevitable impact with the ground or another giant boulder.

It never came.

Instead, there is one more dramatic 180 degree spin and twirl, and suddenly she's not moving anymore. In fact, there is the distinctive feeling of arms around her back and under her knees disturbingly reminiscent of a damsel-in-distress carry.

With a sinking feeling, Ampere lowered her arms and got a gander at her savior.

"That was stupid," Thundercracker reprimanded.

"No one asked you!" Ampere snapped, pushing off of his chest and forcing the Seeker to drop her gracelessly.

Having caught the spinning femme out of midair, the two of them were still hovering about twenty feet over the brown and tan desert sands. Ampere opted to drop the rest of the way and tried to regain a little of her dignity, checking herself for structural damage (nothing serious) and aesthetic damage (scratches and dents prominent on her right shoulder and hip, to her dismay, that was going to take _hours_ to buff out and touch up).

"Just what are you doing out here, anyway?" Ampere asked haughtily, brushing the dirt out of the scratches in her shoulder.

"I'm on Patrol, which is more than I can say for you," Thundercracker answered, touching down a respectable distance away. "You come out here a lot?"

"That's none of your business." Ampere said, still not looking at him.

Thundercracker crossed his arms and waited.

"Alright, so I like flying nowhere occasionally," Ampere said huffily. "Is that so weird?"

"For a Seeker not at all." Thundercracker told her. "For a groundpounder, it's downright bizarre."

Ampere whirled around angrily.

"Oh, so you think because I don't have wings or jet engines I'm not _allowed_ to enjoy flying as much as any of you guys? News flash Thundercracker: EVERYBODY can fly! Or did you not notice that every Decepticon is outfitted with anti-grav thrusters? Did you think the rest of us were following you on strings and rubber band catapults? You don't have a monopoly on the _air_, last time I checked!"

"Ampere, when was the last time you saw the Constructicons or the Stunticons flying loop-de-loops for the fun of it?" Thundercracker asked dryly.

Ampere raised a finger and opened her mouth, but stopped when she realized she was drawing a blank.

"My point exactly." Thundercracker said with a little smirk.

The Mazerati crossed her arms again and glared at the Seeker. "That still doesn't give you the right to make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you," he corrected. "It's something I like to do myself when I'm…sufficiently by recent events, and I need some time to clear my head."

Ampere raised her head and an optic ridge to look down on the taller mech.

"What makes you think I'm 'disturbed' at all?" she asked.

Thundercracker gave her a flat look.

"Because the runner's gone and shut you out, the computer is a POW, and you're boss isn't too worried about getting him back even with the throwaway Autobot taking space up in our brig. Call it a hunch."

Ampere looked ready to protest on sheer principle, but stopped herself. Some of her 'high and mighty princess' vibes evaporated, replaced by realization.

"You go through this with Starscream and Skywarp, huh?"

"Not this exact scenario, but a few close to it," Thundercracker admitted. "The average Decepticons might not have the same loyalty to the cause and to the army as a whole that the average Autobot has to his, but while the Autobots are mostly individuals, most Decepticons are at least part of a smaller group that they are fiercely loyal too."

"Seeker trines and gestalts," Ampere said with a slow nod. "I kind of wondered why they were so prevalent, at least compared to the Autobots. Even Soundwave has his cassettes. No wonder the Decepticon army stays so united, even with rampant backstabbing."

Actually, now that Ampere was saying it out loud, Thundercracker realized something obvious: Ampere, Datum, and Freerun, for all the time they spent together and their obvious camaraderie, they weren't actually a designated group. With their widely different skills and abilities, they wouldn't even be assigned to the same mission except under specific parameters that needed all three of them. Other than that, they just hung out a lot and shared a room.

"Just how did you, Datum, and Freerun end up so close, anyway?" Thundercracker asked. "Everyone thinks of you as a singular group. Pit, throw in some wings and jets, and you guys would be a picture perfect trine. But you're not technically a unit. Did you just train together before coming here, or did you know each other from before the war and got lucky enough to stay close?"

Ampere's reaction confused him: she looked away.

"It's a bit of a…long and complicated story," she hedged. "It's not a very nice one either."

"I've been fighting for a looooong time," Thundercracker reminded her. "I've heard a lot of stories, and very few of them were 'nice'. Besides, the three of you are here now in good health and reasonably sound mind. I already know how your story ends."

Ampere's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"It wasn't that easy a transition, you know," she told him. "When it came down to it, we didn't have a choice BUT to become Decepticons."

Thundercracker hesitated. He didn't know what the femme was trying to imply, but he was beginning to realize that her, their shared story, was far uglier than he would have assumed.

"If you want to keep it to yourself, that's your business," he told her. "But it you'd like to tell it to me, I'm not going anywhere."

Ampere gave him a sidelong look and a mischievous grin.

"Playing therapist now?"

"A natural consequence of being the only sane 'Con left on the planet," he deadpanned.

Ampere laughed merrily, and even Thundercracker had to grin with the lightened mood. When she calmed down again, she still didn't look at him, but down and to the side in contemplation.

"I guess it would be…nice…to have someone else listen," she admitted. "We, the three of us, don't like talking about it. It's too hard to talk about it with each other."

Ampere settled herself daintily on the fallen remains of the pillar that broke her fall. Thundercracker took a similar seat on a slightly elevated boulder and patiently waited for Ampere to gather her thoughts.

oOoOoOo

It had been twenty two hours and fourteen minutes since Datum had captured, nineteen hours and fifty three minutes since he'd been dropped off in this cell, and eighteen hours and thirty seven minutes since Jazz spoke to him. Datum productively spent that time counting every rivet in his cell, even the ones under his berth, then counted them again to make sure he got it right. With the rivet per square footage number he had, he then measured by optic and estimated the size of the brig and calculated the total possible rivets in it, including the walkway. When that was done, he entertained himself by imagining the halls he walked down from the Ark entrance to the brig, and then recreated the Arks interior based on the observations of Soundwaves little spies over the years, calculated the approximate square footage and calculated the total number of rivets holding the Ark together, or at least the total number from the inside.

So when he heard someone coming down the walkway again, Datum was entirely too giddy for a prisoner about to face his captors again.

The giddiness tempered down to something more akin to satisfaction when he saw who exactly it was.

"I understand that you wish to only speak to me," Prowl stated.

The Datsun stood dead center on the other side of the barrier, back straight, hands behind him, wings held at a stiff angle as he regarded Datum with an expression that was both neutral yet firm. In short, everything about his posture just about screamed 'I am the Law. Don't even think about it.'

Strangely, Datum felt slightly comforted by this. Say whatever you wanted to about the mech (and he heard some doozies on the base from a particularly frustrated mech or two), but when all was said and done, Prowl could be depended on to be _fair_.

"That would be right," Datum said as he stood. "Nice to meet you without a gun in my…"

Datum trailed off as he came to his full height, polite interest turning into mild confusion.

"Something the matter?" Prowl prompted. Datum just pointed at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taller?"

Datum hadn't been able to tell before, back when he had been flat on his back with a rifle in his face, but now that they were standing face to face, he could see that he was at least half a head taller than the tactician. It wasn't a huge difference, and he already knew that the 2iC wasn't the tallest mech around, but for some reason Datum felt almost physically thrown off by the height difference.

Prowl apparently chose to ignore it.

"You agreed to be cooperative in answering questions on the condition that I be the one to ask them," Prowl reminded him.

"Don't worry, I remember. "Just to warn you, I'll answer your questions, but I can't promise I'll answer any of Jazz's."

"We know. That is why I am here instead."

"Right. With a list of questions Jazz specifically gave you because gosh darn it, he's just too curious about me. Primus himself probably doesn't know why."

Datum looked up and to the side to grin at the camera watching him from the corner of the ceiling.

"You hear that Jazz? I don't know what you're trying to do, but what with you being you and all, you'll forgive me for wanting to err on the side of caution. I don't care if all you're after is my pede size, I'm not giving it to you."

_~ Security Hub ~_

"He's only been on Earth for three months! There is no way he should have been able to infer so much so easily!"

"Sorry Red, but this isn't some dumb metal head. He just used deductive reasoning. Really, anyone could have guessed it, 'specially for anyone who knows Jazz."

"But he doesn't know Jazz, Inferno. That's the entire problem. Three months isn't nearly enough time to learn the nuances of the enemy's officers. Pit, some of the Decepticons here on Earth still don't know that much about us, even after nearly a decade of constant, almost one on one battling."

"Well, the guy's supposed to be smarter than Skywarp and a lot less naïve than Perceptor. 'Sides, it wasn't that big a leap of logic."

"But it was too big a leap for someone who doesn't have sufficient experience to back it up. That's what's worrying me."

Jazz ignored Red Alert and Inferno in favor of intently watching the vid screen. After Datum delivered his messaged to the Special Ops mech, he gave his full attention back to Prowl. From the camera angle, Jazz could see Prowls back (which was generally has expressive as his front, so no loss there), and nearly all of Datums front, which was the real treasure.

Prowl started off with basic, safe questions that Datum answered easily, like his rank (Scientist), city of origin (Crystal City), and specialty (Dual degrees in Computer Science and Mechanical Engineering, with minors in Xeno-biology, Chemistry, and Astrophysics from the Science Academy in Iacon). Just listening to Datum sprout off his credentials and imagining the sheer amount of studying and work that would have gone into getting them was enough to make Jazz's head hurt.

Then came the kicker.

"_When did you join the Decepticons, and what prompted you to do so_?" Prowl asked.

"_I joined the army about…two centivorns after the war started, though I had Decepticon sympathies almost from the beginning," _Datum explained._ "I didn't like how much the society at the time limited bots because of where they came from or what model they were – Megatron offered a chance to shake up a stagnant system and replace it with one where everyone one could rise and fall based solely on their efforts."_

It was an honest answer, and Datum certainly believed his own words…but it wasn't good enough.

"_You agreed to cooperate," _Prowl said again._ "Lying, even by omission, is not cooperation."_

'_I love that mech'_ Jazz thought fondly.

Datums calm façade cracked for a moment, but he pulled the mask back on.

"_Fair enough. But I also said that I wouldn't be answering any of Jazz's questions, and pardon my saying it, but if you're not satisfied with what I just said, any more detail is just someone your friend's after."_

Jazz jolted straight in his seat.

Red Alert looked over at Inferno. "Still believe he's only relying on 'deductive reasoning'?"

"…Okay, that is a little bit weird," Inferno admitted, slightly uncomfortable now.

Jazz pressed his lips in a thin line, and contacted Prowl over the comm.

_: : Prowl, tell him that if he answers that one question truthfully and completely, he won't be questioned about anything else again for the rest of his stay here. : :_

_: : Jazz, I can't promise that, : : _Prowl protested._ : : We don't know what will happen, we could need more information from him later. Besides, the details of why he joined the Decepticons are irrelevant in the here and now. : : _

_: : Prowl, I'm going to need you to trust me when I say that I can't even begin to explain just how important those details are, : : _Jazz told him seriously.

Prowl hesitated a moment longer, but passed on the offer as his friend requested. Not surprisingly, Datum was rather dubious about it.

"…_Are you serious_?" Datum asked.

"_I give you my word of honor, Datum." _Prowl told him._ "That is all I can offer you."_

Datum crossed his arms and lowered his head a bit as he considered. If Jazz had breath, he would have been holding it. He couldn't explain why his instincts were screaming at him that this was important, and he certainly wouldn't have been able to explain to Prowl with no real evidence to back up his feelings that were less substantial than suspicions but more concrete than a mere hunch. But Jazz had learned a long time ago to trust his instincts, and Prowl had (reluctantly but eventually) learned to do the same.

"_Alright, fine, I give in,"_ Datum said at last.

The computer sat down on the berth.

"_I don't know why Jazz is so desperate to know," _he said_, "but if it'll get him off my back fine. It's not a nice story, but you guys have probably heard a lot worse. Might take awhile though, so you should go head and make yourself comfortable Prowl."_

Prowl kept standing.

"…_Right. Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a second."_

oOoOoOo

After Freerun left the brig, what he needed most was to be able to contemplate what had happened, sort out his reaction, and come to a conclusion about what it meant and how it should affect his future actions. He did such thinking best when he was someplace quiet, dark, preferably small and hard to access for anyone too much bigger than himself (which was a disturbingly large population) where he wouldn't be disturbed for a few hours. He found the perfect spot in the far back corner of the storage room, on top of a tall pseudo step-pyramid of crates, where he could sit with his back in the corner, arms crossed over his chest and legs slightly bent and let his mind run in loops as long as he wanted without anyone to disturb him.

Freerun called it 'deep contemplation.'

Ampere and Datum would have pegged it more accurately as 'sulking.'

But they weren't here now. His best friend had been abandoned to the Autobots, his boss had humiliated him in front of everyone, his possible link to his past had gone ballistic on him, and he had effectively chased off his other best friend by being a total aft whenever she tried approaching him.

All together, Freerun was in a decidedly sour mood with absolutely no desire to deal with anyone for the rest of the day.

_Bz-zzzip_.

"Hi, how's it hanging?"

Freerun yelped and tried to stand up and jump away at the same time from the mech that had literally appeared out of nowhere. This only succeeded in him pushing himself off the crate to tumble backwards off the pyramid. Only quick reflexes and a bit of luck saved Freerun from an ignomious tumble down to the floor.

"That happy to see me, huh?" Skywarp asked cheekily as he held onto Freerun's ankle.

The upside down Freerun stared up at Skywarp for a second before letting his head fall back.

"Either pull me up or let me go already, I'm not in the mood for games."

"Someone's a bit up tight today," Skywarp noted. But he pulled Freerun back up.

"Not everyone likes having their privacy invaded by freaky Seekers that like to pop out of nowhere," Freerun groused as he settled on the edge of the crate, his legs dangling – because there was no way he was going to trap himself in a corner while Skywarp was in the immediate vicinity.

"How'd you find me, anyway?" Freerun asked.

"Traded Mixmaster for monitor duty and checked the recordings for you," Skywarp answered. "Had to trace your path almost from right after we got back from the battle to figure out where you were, which was a real pain by the way. I saw you come in here, but you never left, so I figured you'd still be in here. If you were hiding, then you'd probably pick the furthest, darkest corner you could find. And look; here you are."

"…Why the pit did you go through so much effort to find me?" Freerun asked reluctantly.

"Because I wanted to see you!" Skywarp cheerfully replied.

Freerun stared at him.

"You know, you'd probably be more popular if you didn't have such creepy stalkerish tendencies," he deadpanned.

Skywarp threw his head back and loudly laughed.

"See, that's why I like you Freerun: you know exactly who to call it as it is and still be funny and snarky about it."

"I am _thrilled_ to amuse," Freerun said in the same deadpan. "Seriously though, what are you doing here?"

"I bring gifts, of course!"

As proof, Skywarp pulled two cubes of energon out of his subspace and held one out to the shorter mech.

It did not escape Freerun's notice that the mech with not-so-secret intentions was offering him a cube while they were alone in a dimly lit room with little to no chances of being interrupted for hours.

"No."

"Freerun, I never saw you refuel after we got back, so I know you've got to be starving by now. Call this my good deed of the day."

"You don't _do_ good deeds. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've made myself perfectly clear that I'm not interested."

"You did. This is strictly a friendly offering. The energon is perfectly safe with no strings attached."

Skywarp took a quick sip to prove the cubes purity.

"See? I didn't even slip any date-rape drugs."

"…You're disgusting, Skywarp."

"Occasionally, but at least my sense of humor is mostly harmless."

"You poured laundry detergent into Motormasters gas tank while he was sleeping."

"Heh heh, yeah, that was good."

The black and orange mech eyed the still smiling Skywarp for another second. To be fair, the Seeker WAS mostly harmless (so long as you didn't give him a strong reason not to be), Freerun actually was starting to feel rather drained from not refueling, and he had already mapped out seven different escape routes in case Skywarp got a little too forward.

Freerun took the cube.

The pair sipped quietly in silence that, for the car, was surprisingly comfortable and companionable. Skywarp was keeping to himself, his back to one wall and his legs spread out so his pedes hung just over the edge. Freerun was up against the other wall so they were perpendicular to each other.

"I got tell you Runner, I never would've guessed you could get an Autobot so worked up with, like, three sentences," Skywarp mentioned.

Freerun stopped short a sip. "What are you talking about?"

"When I was looking for ya on the cameras, I saw the footage of you talking to the Autobot in the brig. I don't think I've ever seen anyone other than Megatron or Starscream get one of the Auto-dorks so torqued off so fast."

"You don't say."

"Yep. That Autobot though, it was like you just flipped a switch in his head, that's how fast it was. Just what did you do to get the Autobot to freak out so bad?"

"I'm not sure," Freerun admitted. "I think we might have met before, but when I tried alluding to when I thought it was, he went berserk on me."

"You met before?" Skywarp asked in interest. "How?"

"Haven't a clue."

"Freerun! I'm being serious here! Do you have any idea how often that happens?"

"As Primus as my witness, I couldn't tell you when, where, or how we met," Freerun insisted. "He keeps saying he doesn't know _me_, and I'm pretty sure he's telling the truth; I've know enough cheats and liars to know when someone's trying to pull a fast one."

Skywarp frowned in confusion.

"Okay, you're losing me. You say that you remember him, but you don't have an actually _memory_ of it, and he doesn't remember you either. You sure you're thinking of the same guy?"

"Positive," Freerun said firmly. "I can't explain how I know, but I can feel it in my gut."

"Your gut? Since when do you use human euphemisms?" Skywarp asked in mild disgust.

"Since when do you know what 'euphemism' even means?" Freerun countered.

Skywarp lightly kicked Freerun in the leg in retaliation.

"Seriously though, do I at least have the gist of it?" Skywarp asked.

Freerun nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."

"How does that even work?"

"Not very well, considering that it requires having almost all of your memories being completely screwed up."

"Hmm…wait, what?"

Skywarp stared at Freerun, and after a beat the smaller mech realized what he had just said. It actually surprised him that he had let something like that slip out so easily – in fact, he, Ampere and Datum hadn't mentioned…certain events since they came to Earth, not even to each other.

"Your memories are messed up?" Skywarp pressed, sitting up straighter. "How'd that happen?"

"…Doesn't matter," Freerun muttered into his cube, not making optic contact. "It was a long time ago, and it's a bit of a weird story anyway."

"I like weird stories. And say the word, and I'll promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone. Sacred Seeker Promise."

"Is there such thing as a Sacred Seeker Promise?"

"If I say yes, will you tell me?"

Freerun had absolutely no idea why he was suddenly compelled to spill his story. Maybe it was the privacy of the setting. Maybe the energon had loosened his glossa just enough for this moment. Or maybe Freerun was fed up with sulking and wanted someone to talk to, and Skywarp was conveniently in the area. Maybe it was a combination of all three. Whatever it was, suddenly the option of sharing a part of his history with someone who was not quite a friend but more than just an acquaintance wasn't as unappealing as it might have otherwise been.

"I'm holding you to that Sacred Seeker Promise then."

oOoOoOo

Unbeknownst to everyone involved, three different Decepticons speaking to three different audiences in three different locations would be telling a single story.


	7. The Story

**AN:** I am honestly surprised how fast I banged this out. Don't get used to it though, I can't promise that it'll happen again.

I'm also experimenting with a variation of storytelling, jumping from POV's a lot. Let me know if it works for you please.

On another note…

I have fanart for the story! The ever lovable GreyLiliy recreated the scene where Tracks and Freerun first meet in gorgeous color. The link is in my profile – do me a favor, and go shower Liliy with lots of love and adoration.

(Can you tell yet that I like it?)

* * *

Ch. 7 – The Story

"I wasn't much of anything special before the war," Datum admitted to Prowl. "I graduated from Iacon's Science Academy, but I quickly learned that sitting behind a desk or confining myself to a single train of work didn't suit me. I chose to take up freelance because I enjoyed the variety and freedom of it."

"What sort of freelance?" Prowl asked. Datum shrugged.

"Programming, design, debugging, software writing, anything really. Mostly, I was hired to fix what someone else on the company's development team screwed up. Occasionally I did gigs reverse engineering a rival companies newest product, or creating encryptions and firewalls to protect their product AGAINST reverse engineering. I was good at it too; never had to worry about where my next job was coming in. Speaking of which, my last job was with ModiCorp, helping them fine tune their latest product. Have you heard of them?"

"They were the premier designers and manufactures of mods and upgrades in Iacon," Prowl said. "They called themselves neutral in the early war, but we later found evidence that they funneled finances and gave discounts to the Decepticons."

Datum nodded. "That's them. They're the reason I got to meet Ampere and Freerun."

oOoOoOo

"I thought you weren't a tech head," Skywarp asked a tad suspiciously.

"Not in the least," Freerun assured. "Whenever Datum starts spouting physics my CPU starts to shut down in self defense."

"Heh heh. Okay, so what were you doing at ModiCorp anyways?"

"Sneaking in to steal whatever cool gadgets I could carry out."

"Wow. You don't do anything half way, do you?" Skywarp commented.

"I was desperate, okay?" Freerun said, a little defensively. "I was a street urchin, sure, but I wasn't a thief. Most of the time. Okay, only when I was really desperate. Look, thing is, when I got to Iacon, it wasn't the golden city of opportunity I thought it was going to be. I joined a gang because I needed other mechs to watch my back, but I didn't figure out until too late that I picked the absolute worst gang possible."

"Who were they?" Skywarp asked eagerly.

"Don't remember."

"Freerun!"

"I already told you my memory's screwed up. I mostly remember being scared for my life every day, either because we were going to get busted and jailed for life for the crap we pulled, or because I was going to torque off the wrong bot just because he didn't like the way my face looked that day. I couldn't just quit though; anyone who tries gets beaten within an inch of his life. Most of them don't make it."

"Capital punishment for the crime of treason, right?"

"That was pretty much how it worked. Anyway, I figured, my best way out of the gang would be to buy my way out, and the fastest, easiest way would be to swipe something really expensive and flashy the first time around."

"So you snuck into ModiCorp to steal…what, exactly?"

Freerun shrugged. "Anything that looked good. It wasn't a really well thought out plan. The only reason I even got in was with a mix of stealth, lock picking, and some of the best bluffing in my entire life."

"You bluffed your way past high security?" Skywarp asked skeptically. Freerun grinned.

"It's amazing the places you can go if you act like you're in a hurry and that you're supposed to be there."

Skywarp looked contemplative.

"It only works once on bots who don't know you well enough," Freerun warned.

Contemplation fell into disappointment. Disappointment lit up into stunned realization.

"Wait a klick! Did they catch you and lock you up and do experiments on your CPU for a new mod and kept you as a tortured test subject for vorns and vorns until you snapped and escaped and killed everybody on a rampage of bloody revenge with new awesome cools powers?" Skywarp asked in excited anticipation.

Freerun stared at him.

"…What the heck kind of vids are you _watching_?" he asked incredulously.

"So you weren't captured and tortured for experiments?" Skywarp asked. Freerun's expression turned deadpanned.

"Skywarp, even if I was used as a lab rat, do you really think I'd be such good friends with the femme who _owned_ the freaking company?"

In Freerun's opinion, Skywarp was entirely too disappointed by the negative answer. This time, disappointment shifted to confusion.

"Wait a klick. 'Friends with the femme who owned the company?' Are you telling me that…"

oOoOoOo

"…YOU owned _ModiCorp_??"

"Head of the Board, actually," Ampere stated with a cheeky grin, entirely too amused by the bug-eyed reaction she was getting. "My Creator built the company up, and I took it over about…seven or eight vorns before the war started."

Thundercracker kept staring.

"Okay, now you're starting to insult me," Ampere complained. "Is it really THAT shocking that I might have an actual working CPU under this helm?"

"That's not what's surprising me," Thundercracker admitted. "You don't seem like the type who'd be happy working behind a desk, even if it was at the head of a major corporation."

Ampere blinked at him, but hid her surprise behind a smile.

"Well, I DID like being able to order everyone around and be the Big Boss that everyone was afraid to frag off, and the penthouse in the Towers by the Crystal Gardens was a pretty nice bonus too."

Thundercracker gave her a flat look.

"Ampere, if you try to tell me you didn't spend most days bored or frustrated out of your head, then you not the energetic free-spirited femme I've been sharing living space with for the last three months and I'm going to have to tell Freerun and Datum that their big sister's been replaced by a poorly researched copy," the blue Seeker deadpanned.

The femme crossed her arms and glared at him. "What, you think you already know me so well that you can already guess what I used to feel perfectly?"

"_Were_ you bored and frustrated?"

"...That is completely beside's the point! Um, anyway….where was I?"

Thundercracker frowned in memory. "Hold on, wasn't ModiCorp…?"

He trailed off when Ampere's expression darkened into sad recollection.

"Yeah," she said. "That was the day I met Datum and Freerun, though I didn't know Freerun was in the room at the time. The little sneak had somehow gotten in the R&D labs right before Datum and I did. Soon as we walked in, he pretty much ducked down and hid and hoped really hard that we'd go away soon. Heh. Ironically, his being in that one room, as opposed to one of the dozens of others, saved his life."

oOoOoOo

"See, ModiCorps R&D labs are ridiculously well fortified, or at least they were," Datum explained. "Install an energon dispenser and move it underground and it could have doubled for a bunker in case someone decided to randomly drop a bomb on our heads."

"Iacon was never attacked in such a manner," Prowl pointed out. "Did ModiCorp have an accident in…"

He trailed off in realization.

"This was the day of the attack, wasn't it?" he asked.

Datum gave a grim smile. "Guess you heard about it."

"When the headquarters of a major corporation is attacked by a radical terrorist group, the news travels fast," Prowl pointed out. "It was later deduced that it had been an inside job, allowing the group access into an otherwise secured facility without alerting the Enforcers. Most of the perpetrators were caught or killed that day or shortly afterwards, but we never found the true leaders or the purpose behind the attack."

"So I've heard," Datum said. "But, yeah, we were there that day. And really, we survived for two reasons: first, because the labs locked down and kept us from leaving, and second, because we happened to be with Ampere."

oOoOoOo

"Was it supposed to be a ransom thing?" Skywarp asked. Freerun shook his head.

"No. If it was, there were a heck of a lot easier ways to kidnap her, even with her security," he explained. "This was more…personal. An attack against everything she stood for."

"Which was…?"

"Nobody knew this at the time, but apparently Ampere had been using her position to fund Megatron's early efforts in the war, even selling him their special items at ridiculous discounts. Basically, she was his first and most lucrative financial backer."

Skywarp stared.

"…I don't know if that's hilarious or just plain weird," he admitted. "So how come Megatron acts like he doesn't remember her?"

"Because he doesn't," Freerun said. "Ampere looks so different from what she used to, there's no way he could recognize her. And she's not interested in telling him either. He won't care what she once did for him; he's only interested in what she can do for him _now_. The last thing she wants is for him to think she's looking for special treatment because of a business thing they had nine freaking million years ago."

"Yeah, that would be a little awkward," Skywarp noted with a sip of energon. "Out of curiosity, why'd she do that?"

"Finance Megatron you mean?"

oOoOoOo

"I wish I could say it was because I felt empathy for the downtrodden and repressed, and that I saw Megatron as a glorious leader who would bring Cybertron into a new golden age of expansion and growth. But the truth is, it was strictly a business decision."

"I slept through my Corporate Finance classes," Thundercracker apologized dryly. "You might have to elaborate a little."

Ampere smiled a little. "Quite simply, any growth is good for business. Cybertron was becoming increasingly stagnant, and the finance world was reflecting it. If Cybertron were to expand, grow outwards, it would open avenues for new markets, new customers, new demands, and ModiCorp would have been at the head of the pack. Not to mention, we'd have an established relationship with the highest political power, and all the business deals and lucrative exemptions that came with it."

The femme looked away, back into her memories, her smile shrinking to something sadder.

"We were supposed to keep out of the rebellions," she went on, a little more quietly. "But I thought the other board members were just being cowardly. I thought they were afraid to take a little risk, or that they were too scared of stepping on toes. I thought I was so smart for going behind their backs. But I was just a little fool who was too focused on the numbers to think about…how others would see it."

Ampere had trailed off, and no longer seemed able to look Thundercracker in the optic. She kept looking down more and more uncomfortable, sporadically clenching her hands in her lap.

"When the attack came…" she near whispered, "they came for me."

Thundercracker scooted a little closer, completely focused on Ampere.

"It…they told me later that, that I was the whole reason for it," she said quietly. "They wanted, they said I had to 'pay for my crimes', and that's why they…"

She stopped, looking down at her hands, choking on the memories of what happened that day.

Thundercracker leaned over to put a hand on her shoulder.

"If you want to stop, I understand," he said. "You don't have to force yourself for my sake."

Ampere shook her head. "No I _want_ to get it out. I don't want to pretend that it didn't happen, that all those bots didn't die because of me."

"It was a random terrorist attack," Thundercracker said. "You couldn't have possibly predicted something like that. NO ONE saw it coming. Pit, for vorns afterwards experts on both sides of the war were picking that attack down to pieces and finding evidence to point fingers at absolutely everyone."

Ampere snorted in disgust.

"Evidence?" she repeated. "How's this for evidence: on that day, my family's company was attacked and my employees, my _friends,_ were massacred by Autobots."

oOoOoOo

"If that is not a lie, then it is false information," Prowl said. "We did not plan the attack, orchestrate it, or condone it. Nor would we ever consider such violent actions against civilians, no matter what their personal allegiance."

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Datum said. "Those guys were Autobot extremists. They saw attacking ModiCorp as tantamount to attacking the Decepticons, except with a lot fewer soldiers firing back."

Prowl accepted this with a nod, content that the Decepticon was sensible enough to separate the actions of a few from the actions of the system they claimed to represent even while disregarding it's basic tenants.

Up in the Security hub, the 'terrorist attack was carried out by Autobots!' revelation was received a little less calmly.

"THAT LYING NO GOOD VIRUS GLITCHED RUSTING SLAG HEAP!" Inferno roared. "How dare he accuse Autobots of something so cowardly and vile! I'm going to kill him if he says it again, that fragged off outdated slagger!"

"Inferno, he just said he knows perfectly well that it wasn't the main Autobot army that conducted the attack," Red Alert reminded his friend, as he stood up in front of the raging fire engine. "He seems perfectly aware that neither Sentinel nor Optimus Prime would have ever condoned something so despicable. So could you please calm down, and save your anger for someone who deserves it?"

Jazz took a moment to contemplate the bizarre role reversal he was seeing. Maybe he should mark this down or something.

Back in the brig, the tactician and the scientist carried on in blissful ignorance.

"We will get to why you were so certain they were Autobots momentarily," Prowl said. "What do you remember of the attack?"

Datum shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"As Primus as my witness…not very much."

oOoOoOo

"FREERUN!"

"Screwed up memory, remember?" Freerun reiterated. "I didn't pick the holes, I'm just trying to work around them. I remember in general what happened, and I figured out some other stuff when I checked out what was left of the historical archives, but a lot of the details are just gone."

"Well, okay, fine," Skywarp grumbled slightly. "So, you're stuck in a room with Ampere and Datum. What happened next?"

Freerun shrugged. "All I remember is that all of a sudden, the alarms were blaring and there was a flashing red light, and I think I remember a big clanging sound. Ampere told me later that those were the blast doors coming down and the bolts locking them in place, trapping us in that one room. She had no clue what was going on, and I could see her and Datum trying to contact somebody, ANYBODY, about what was going on. They later told me that all they were getting was static. We were totally cut off."

Skywarp leaned in a little closer, half empty cube forgotten, completely entranced.

"They didn't know I was there yet," Freerun went on. "And I didn't want them too. At that point, I didn't care about the stupid visor, I just wanted to get out safe. But even hiding like I was, I could still hear everything that was happening outside those doors…"

oOoOoOo

"…I could hear gunshots, automatic weapons, just bang-bang-bang nonstop. Just going and going, gunning down everyone…even while they were, screaming for help, for mercy, begging and crying for them to spare their lives even while they were running…"

oOoOoOo

"…innocent mechs and femmes, being gunned down just beyond those doors, and we could hear them banging on the walls sometimes, but we were completely _helpless_ to save them. We couldn't let them in, they couldn't come in, we had the only safe haven while everyone else was left to die…"

oOoOoOo

He stopped abruptly, squeezing his widened, pale optics shut and drawing into himself like a shell, as if trying to block out the memories, shivering as if reliving the horror of that day, as fresh and real as when he lived it. Even now, he could pick out the voices, remember the nuances, remember the banging sounds as they pounded on the door, and the heavy thumps as they fell to the floor.

"I still have nightmares about it sometimes," he said in a near whisper. "We all do. Seeing it again and again in our dreams…it's why we can all remember that one part so clearly. Pit of a memory to keep, huh?"

"What happened next?" Skywarp asked in an equally quiet voice.

"Then…then it got quiet. It got quiet for a long time. We didn't know what was going on, if the attack was over, or if they were going to come back, or if help arrived, or if everyone forgot about us and we were trapped in that room forever. Then, almost a joor later, we heard the bolts retract and the blast doors open again. We all thought it was over, that the Enforcers had come and killed the attackers and saved us all. What was left, anyway."

Freerun's hands clenched angrily.

"That was when he came," he said in dark, hateful anger.

"Who?" Skywarp pressed.

oOoOoOo

"I don't think we ever learned his name." Ampere admitted. "I can't even remember what he looked or sounded like. Certainly not enough to pick him out of a crowd, assuming he hadn't changed anything about his frame or plating in the last 9 million years or so."

"Pardon my saying, but I'd think such a striking memory would stick better," Thundercracker said. Ampere held her hands up and shrugged.

"It helps that I never saw his real face," she went on. "When I try to think of him, all that comes to mind is a face mask and a visor. He never showed his real self to us. Kind of made him even scarier."

"No one called him by name?" the Seeker asked. Ampere shook her head.

"They all just addressed him as 'sir'. But, afterwards, the three of us started calling him 'Faceless,' for lack of a better name. Come to think of it, everything about him was just so…still. The way he moved and talked, it was all so efficient and impersonal. All the other mechs, as soon as the doors opened they swarmed in and started grabbing whatever they could find. They didn't even bother searching the room, they just started taking anything that grabbed their fancy.

"But Faceless…he just strode into the room, and everyone stopped dead still, waiting for him. At least, I think they did. Every time I think of Faceless, I imagine everything around him being very…subdued. Like his presence was just that powerful. I think that's what scared me the most; that he had so much personal power that he could just invade my sanctuary and take control as easily as if it were his own. When he looked at you, you just…froze."

oOoOoOo

"He just had to say, 'hold them', and suddenly Ampere and I were being held by two mechs each, being forced to our knees. Faceless looked at Ampere, then at me, like he was evaluating me. I don't know if he was trying to place me or judge my worth, I don't know _what_ was going through his head. But Ampere refused to just cower and give up. She was getting angry, telling him that he wasn't going to get away with this, and that the Enforcers were going to come and lock everyone up for the rest of eternity, assuming they weren't killed on sight first."

"A foolish move," Prowl commented. "She only risked aggravating her captors. You're fortunate that they didn't kill either of you right then and there."

"Funny you should say that, Prowl," Datum said. "Because Faceless just looked back at Ampere and said 'The Enforcers cannot save you now,' right before he addressed the mechs holding me and ordered them to kill me."

"Obviously they did not," Prowl said. "What stopped them?"

Datum grinned. "Our tiny orange guardian angel."

oOoOoOo

"When Faceless ordered Datums execution, Ampere started pleading, offering him anything he wanted and ten times more, if only he would let Datum go. But he wouldn't listen. He just said 'He is useless. You have nothing to compensate for him.' Then they knocked Datum flat on the floor and put a gun to his head. There wasn't anyone else to help him."

"But they didn't find you," Skywarp mentioned. "And it was one mech against, what, a dozen? If you stayed put, they might've never found you, and you could have walked out when the mess was over. That sure as the Pit wasn't a firefight you were going to win."

"You think I didn't know that?" Freerun asked, almost angrily. "I knew perfectly well how it stood. But…I couldn't just hide and let one more bot die when I could have stopped it. Not after what had just happened. Pit, I don't even remember making the actual choice. One minute the mech had a gun to Datums head and a finger on the trigger, the next I was bursting out of the overhead locker I had jumped him and tackling him to the ground."

"Surprised the slag out of everyone, I'll bet," Skywarp commented with a grin. Freerun couldn't help but match it.

"Kind of wish I couldn't have gotten a look at their faces. Ampere tells me it was priceless."

Freerun started talking faster and moving his hands around as he re-enacted his Moment of Awesome.

"I just jumped down right on top of the guy and knocked him out with his gun while he was still too stunned to stop me. Then I just rolled off and away and I got off four or five good shots and made everyone scatter. I was so hyped up I couldn't even think, I was just moving. It was awesome!"

"What happened next?" Skywarp pressed eagerly.

Freerun's excitement dropped.

"One of the mechs who actually KNEW how to hold a gun and shoot it clipped me in the shoulder. I dropped the gun in pain and was pinned down by another mech twice my size."

"Ouch."

"In hindsight, I really could have planned that better. Considering I had never held a gun in my life before that, I'm lucky I didn't kill Ampere or Datum instead. I didn't even manage to piss of Faceless. He just walked over, looked me over, and brushed me off when I told him to go melt in the Pit. All he said was 'You are a most inefficient bodyguard.'"

"Bodyguard?"

"Guess it was the only explanation he could think of as to why I was hiding in the locker. Maybe he figured that, since Datum and I so obviously were connected to Ampere, we'd make good prisoners too. Last thing I remember was someone pressing something to the back of my neck and getting shocked in my whole body. Then it all went black."

oOoOoOo

"When I woke up, I was in a cold, pitch black room with hard floors." Ampere described. "Within the first few seconds, we realized that we were all in the room together. When we did, we just huddled close together without talking. We didn't care that we were almost strangers; we were scared, confused, and alone except for each other."

"They let you stay together?" Thundercracker asked. Ampere nodded.

"I don't know why. You'd think keeping us separate would be a better way of breaking us, make us despair. But for all I know they were short on space and had to make do with what they had. That was where we started to become friends; we were left in there for hours, in the dark alone together. We'd talk to each other, try to stay positive and comfort each other."

Ampere had a soft smile as she remembered. She could not recall a single story told, not one lame joke or intellectual observation. She only remembered that Freerun had made her chuckle and Datum had distracted her with a short lived philosophical debate. Those little rays of light in the darkness…

"…Those are some of my most precious memories, Thundercracker."

"You can't go through stuff like that and not come out changed," he said in understanding. Ampere nodded.

"After some time, I don't know how long, we started hearing Faceless's voice in the dark. We still couldn't see him. We couldn't even place where he was coming from. But he would tell us our crimes, that we were traitors and that we had to be punished, because no one was above the law."

"That's insane," Thundercracker said flatly. "He had no right to act as your judge and jury."

"Freerun said the same thing," Ampere noted, "except he was a lot less polite."

"Good for him. Still, even if he was crazy, I can sort of follow his logic as to why he wanted you. Why did he bother taking Datum and Freerun?"

oOoOoOo

"I don't know what inspired Faceless to bring us along. Maybe he figured he could use us to hurt Ampere or something. But afterwards, he must have done some research on us. It didn't take him too long to find out about me. What really perked his interest were the debates I participated in while I was in the Academy, about the current social order and the treatment of the Decepticons."

"You spoke in favor of the Decepticons?" Prowl tried to clarify.

"It would be more accurate to say I spoke in favor of equality," Datum corrected. "Like I said, I didn't like how the Science Academy favored some students over others, or how our society at the time placed more importance on where you came from then on the merits of your experiences and skills. I thought, if Megatron could get the Senate to wake up and start to see that they were allowing out world to rot from the inside, then that alone would be enough."

"Do you still feel that Megatron was right?" Prowl asked.

"Excellent question!" Datum said merrily. "Unfortunately, since I'm still answering your last question to the best of my ability, you don't get to ask anymore. That was the deal, remember?"

"So it was," Prowl acknowledged. "Forgive my interruption. Please continue."

"So, anyway, what with that on my record, and that I was already working for Ampere, 'enabling her crimes' I think was how Faceless put it, I was already as good as convicted in his optics. He wasn't the type to forgive anyone with any sympathies for the wrong side. But as bad as that was, Freerun really had it the worst of all of us."

"Why is that?"

"Freerun came to Iacon with nothing but a few credits to his name and entirely too much optimism. He practically had to WALK all the way, that's how desperate he was to scratch out a new life for himself. The records about him would have been next to nothing – I doubt Faceless would have been able to find more except for his city of construction and maybe, _maybe_ a current address. Do you know what Faceless found out about Freerun that made him decide he deserved to be tried for 'treason?'"

oOoOoOo

"It was the fact that I was from Kaon. That's all."

"But you left Kaon for _Iacon_." Skywarp said incredulously. "Doesn't that kind of say something?"

"It didn't matter to him," Freerun said in dark anger, optics narrowing and turning a darker shade of crimson. "I was Kaon built, and Kaon belonged to 'thieves, criminals, and Decepticons', as Faceless oh so happily told us. I didn't stand a chance."

"Okay. Even I think that's messed up." Skywarp said in disgust.

A lull in the conversation grew longer and longer. Confused, Skywarp looked back over to the diminutive runner.

Freerun was staring down into his cube, his face obscured by the rim of his cap-like helm. His expression was hidden, but his trembling hands and the vibrating ripples across the surface of the liquid energon gave him away.

Skywarp was not a particularly observant, empathetic mech. But he wasn't stupid.

"Freerun?"

"He found us guilty of treason, Skywarp," Freerun said suddenly, not looking up. "And you already know what the universal sentence is for treason."

oOoOoOo

Ampere fisted her hands on her lap.

"Two mechs came for us. We tried to fight back, but we were completely blind in the dark and they were so much stronger than any of us. They tied our hands together and dragged us out of that room, into what looked like an abandoned warehouse, the kind you see by the docks sometimes. Faceless was there too, like he was presiding over us."

Thundercracker felt a growing pit of dread in the bottom of his tanks.

"I, I was making a last ditch effort to bribe him to at least let Datum and Freerun go. Freerun called Faceless every name in the book and made up a few new ones, still trying to get loose and trying to fight back. Got a good kick in at the back of one bots knees, if I remember right, but it wasn't quite enough to bring him down. Datum…I remember he still had complete faith that the Enforcers were going to find us, and that we were still going to be rescued at the last minute. He told Faceless as much, and that his best chance of not being killed on sight was to let us go."

"Did the Enforcers come?" Thundercracker asked. "Or Decepticons? Did you join because we saved you?"

Ampere shut her optics as if trying to hold her composure together before she started crying.

"No," she breathed out. "No one ever came."

oOoOoOo

"I don't know why Faceless picked me first. Maybe he figured I was the least guilty, or got tired of the sound of my voice. He just looked at me and said 'Your faith in the Enforcers is misplaced. They will not save you.'"

Prowl had long ago gone very, very still.

Datum lifted his hands in front of him. "The last thing I remember someone behind me saying how they wanted to try something they saw on the vids. He put a hand on either side of my head…"

He curled his hands as if holding a ball in a firm grip.

"…and _twisted_."

oOoOoOo

"I think I screamed. I'm not sure. Datum went completely limp, and the mech dragged him off and dropped him in front of Faceless. Ampere was crying on the floor, and I was calling them murderous slaggers, but they just ignored us."

"Oh Primus."

Freerun stopped and looked up a little with an odd look on his face.

"You know, now that you mention it, when they brought Datum to Faceless, he actually got down on one knee and just rested his finger tips on Datums temples for a few seconds. I don't know if it was supposed to be a prayer or a last rite or what. Not like he bothered to tell us. Not like we had enough time left to worry about it either; I was next."

"Did they…you know, do that to you too?"

Freerun shook his head.

"They uh, they pulled me away from Ampere and pushed me to the floor so that I was…on my back. I was exhausted, but I was too scared to stop struggling. One mech had to hold my arms down over my head, and the other stood over me with his foot on my pelvis to keep me mostly flat. That's when…"

Freerun stopped. What came next, he couldn't even think about. He couldn't force the words to form to describe it. It was enough to make him feel a wave of nausea just thinking out it, being there again. Almost unconsciously, one hand released his cube and rose up to press against his chassis, just over his spark, as if making sure that it was still there.

Skywarp watched this, feeling uncharacteristically uneasy about Freerun's reaction to the memory and a growing sense of horror of what it might have been. He opened his mouth to ask, but closed it again. For once, he honestly did not know if he even _wanted_ to know.

Freerun told him anyway.

"He had pile-drivers, Skywarp."

oOoOoOo

Thundercracker was speechless.

Ampere was bent over, face in her hands, trying to draw in shaky breaths.

"I thought…he should have died," she said, her voice muffled and wavering. "No one's supposed to be able to survive their spark casing being crushed. And there was…the floor was soaked, all over, and he twitched and gurgled and he, and then he went completely still, and I could see into his…"

Her words disappeared into sobs.

Had Thundercracker stopped to think, he would have second guessed himself, reconsidered how his actions would be interpreted, and probably talked himself out of it. But for once, there was no thinking, no internal debate, not even hesitation. All he had time for was to think that he didn't like seeing the energetic, fun-loving Ampere cry.

The femme gasped lightly in surprise when an arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her in close.

"It's alright," was all Thundercracker said.

For an instant, pride fought a fierce battle to hold her back. But she had born too much of her spark already; it was far too late to turn back now.

Ampere almost fell into Thundercrackers side, crying into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him as well, trying to draw out the comfort he had so unexpectedly offered. For his part, the Seeker kept the arm wrapped around her back and watched her cry. A part of him noted that he never quite realized just how small Ampere was; she was so confidant and even self-centered, yet so protective of her friends, that she seemed bigger than herself. But now, it was like she was practically sinking into him, a mere slip of a femme.

It was a long several minutes before Ampere was spent of her tears. She pulled back, wiping her optics with the heel of her hand. Awkwardly, she tried wiping off Thundercrackers front as well.

"Sorry," she said quietly to Thundercrackers chest, embarrassment creeping in.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he said firmly. "Besides, since when do you make apologies for anything you do?"

"Well aren't you a sweetspark," Ampere said with her more familiar sarcasm, even as she kept addressing the area below Thundercrackers chin.

Neither seemed to notice how close they were now sitting to each other.

"If you've had enough, you can stop," Thundercracker said again, more gently this time.

Ampere shook her head.

"I've already gotten this far. Might as well finish the story, right? Unless you have to go now," she added hurriedly.

He took a moment to check his chronometer.

"I don't have to go anywhere yet. I still have plenty of time," he lied.

Ampere smiled gratefully.

Coughing a little into a dainty fist, she turned away so that she was sitting next to Thundercracker as opposed to practically on his lap, her arms straight and hands resting on her knees.

"Well, you can probably guess what a mess I was at that point," she said simply. "I just fell to the floor crying. I was in so much despair that two innocent mechs had to die just because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – near me. I didn't care what they did to me anymore; I just wanted it to end.

"I think someone tried telling me something, but I've either forgotten or I never heard it right. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged across the floor. I didn't come to my senses again until I was rolled into a pit of cold water. It wasn't far enough to actually hurt me, and the water would have only come to my ankles had I been standing, but it confused the pit out of me, I can tell you that. I remember pushing myself to my knees and looking up, wondering what was going on. Faceless stood by the rim, just watching me. I just snapped at him to hurry and get it over with, the water wasn't nearly cold enough to freeze me yet.

"That was when one of his goons appeared with a thick, live cable with the wires exposed. I remember that he said something, I don't know _what_ anymore, before he dropped it. I didn't even have the presence of mind to realize what was about to happen before it hit the water. And, well, water plus metal plus way too much electricity equals a not very good thing for me."

Ampere looked back to her one mech audience and grinned. "On the upside, how many bots can say they remember the day they died?"

"I could probably name a couple."

"Hardy har."

"But if they were trying to kill, they obviously didn't do a very good job. How did you survive that?"

oOoOoOo

"Good question, one we still don't have a good answer for," Datum admitted. "One second my head is being practically twisted off, the next I'm waking up on a table with a bright light in my face and a big purple mech with one optic standing over me."

Even Prowl couldn't keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. "You were saved by Shockwave?"

Datum swiped the air as if brushing the question aside.

"To say he 'saved' us would be putting it too strongly, I think," he said. "It'd be more accurate to say he 'recovered' us. No one can ever be certain how we survive. By all accounts, we should have died. Freerun and Ampere certainly shouldn't have been able to survive their injuries long enough for help to arrive."

"Yet you are here today. What do you know?"

"I did a lot of research the first few days after I woke up, piecing together news reports and Enforcer statements about the days following the ModiCorp attack, and combing through the hospital records," Datum said. "What was left of them anyway; not much information survived, and what was left was corrupted or incomplete. From what I could figure, our bodies were dumped somewhere rather than disposed of properly, whether because Faceless didn't care or was trying to send a message only he knew. We were found and taken to a hospital, but as you can imagine, our sparks were probably fluttering and hanging by a thread. On one hand, they had to take immediate action or our sparks would extinguish. On the other, our bodies were so badly damaged at that point that the trauma of surgery might finish the job anyway. Take a guess what radical step they took?"

"They would have had to remove your sparks from your frames and place them into suspended storage, to wait until they were able to repair your bodies," Prowl supposed. "A delicate, risky procedure used only as the absolute last resort."

"And since we were probably about to die on the table anyway, it would have been the only real option they had," Datum finished. "Removing our sparks would have been the hard part, but obviously they pulled that off. Once our sparks were put into stasis, they would be able to repair our frames at their leisure, taking care to do it right. I have no idea how long it should have taken, but since our bodies weren't housing sparks anymore and we could be kept in stasis indefinitely, we ceased to be their first priority."

"Even if she was far from a household name, Ampere was still the Head of the Board for a major corporation," Prowl pointed out. "That she was found alive should have garnered media attention. Why didn't we ever hear anything about this?"

"I have no idea," Datum admitted. "Maybe the doctors wanted to wait until they were sure she would pull through before letting the world know. Or maybe Faceless did something to us to impede their abilities to verify our identities. Or someone dropped the memo on the way out the door. We have no way to know anymore. In any case, you can't really blame the doctors for favoring a bleeding patient on the table right in front of them over the broken husk that could easily wait. And with the war escalating, there was no shortage of emergency patients."

Prowl frowned.

"Are you saying that you three were just…forgotten?"

"It sounds cold, but the fact of the matter was we weren't soldiers, commanders, or political leaders. Even Ampere was replaceable, eventually. We weren't first priority, and any supplies had to go to the soldiers so that the doctors could through them back on the front lines. As the war escalated and went on and on, we got pushed further and further onto the back burner, until the staff forgot they even _had_ sparks in stasis. When supplies for spare parts ran low, our bodies were found and salvaged down to the last screw and plating."

Prowls optics widened slightly.

"This is not your real body then?" he asked, gesturing toward the scientist.

"Nope. Shockwave told us he found our sparks in the storage unit of a hospital at the edges of Iacon, but no spare frames. This meant he had three spare sparks to power three new soldiers for Megatron. When he built our new bodies, he took the opportunity to integrate a few experiments that needed field testing, like Ampere's Imps and Freerun's runner design. But when he did so, he left as much of the programming as possible blank, to allow for our original personalities to reemerge."

"He wasn't worried about your loyalty?" Prowl asked.

"More like he decided the benefits outweighed the potential risks," Datum said. "He could have put the mods on drones and have assured loyalty, sure. But to use the mods to their greatest effectiveness required intelligence, reasoning, creativity, the ability to see all the options of a complicated situation and choose the best out. A drone, by definition, can't do that."

"He could have tried to program in a loyal personality," Prowl pointed out. Datum raised a finger in point.

"Key word being 'tried.' Maybe you can do that with a young spark that hadn't settled into its personality yet, but not with a mature one. He'd have his perfect loyal dogs for a few years, maybe even decades, but eventually our sparks would have chipped away at any false programming, and he'd be left with three extremely torqued off and heavily modded bots. If he or Megatron wanted our loyalty, it had to be given willingly."

"Shockwave's gamble seemed to have paid off, seeing as how you're fighting for Megatron now," Prowl said.

"I already told you that our sympathies had already been with the Decepticons even before the slag hit the fan," Datum reminded Prowl. "Being abducted and brutally 'killed' by Autobot extremists didn't do much to dissuade us. We spent the rest of our time readjusting to our new bodies, nearly to use our abilities, and catching up on lost history as much as we could. Then, one day, Shockwave got a message from Megatron ordering for us to be shipped out to Earth immediately. Shockwave figured we had progressed enough, and sent us on our way.

"And we all know what happened after that."

oOoOoOo

"Wow."

"Yep."

"So you grew up on Kaon's streets, fell in with Iacon's gangs, got captured and almost killed by an insane Autobot, spent 9 million years in stasis only to wake up and get tossed into the front lines after a crash course in How Not to Die?"

"In a nutshell."

"You life _sucked_."

"Least I still got one," Freerun pointed out.

"Point," Skywarp conceded. "That's more than we can say about Faceless. Goes through all that trouble to send a message and nobody ever finds out he's the one that did it. Now it's like, he's not just dead, he completely doesn't exist anymore. But you're here, you healthy, and you don't even remember his stupid name."

Skywarp lit up with a new thought.

"You know," he said with a grin, "Facelesss thought he was so much better than everyone, but in the end, _you_ beat _him_. How cool is that?"

Freerun looked at the Seeker oddly. Slowly, a genuine smile formed. "Heh. You know, I never thought of it that way before. I kinda like that."

"I thought you might," Skywarp said smugly.

Freerun held up his cube and grandly announced, "Here's to survivors everywhere, psychotic monotonous Autobots be slagged."

"And may Faceless rot in the Pit forever," Skywarp added as he held his own cube high.

They drank the last of their energon together in toast.

Freerun relaxed back against the wall and settled the empty cube at his side. After a moment, he rolled his head around on his shoulder and smiled at Skywarp.

"Hey Warp? Thanks," he said sincerely.

The purple Seeker blinked in surprised, but matched Freerun's smile. Said smile turned into a grin that was decidedly less innocent.

"So…" he said as he leaned in closer. "Wanna make out now?"

Freerun kicked him off the crate.

oOoOoOo

Ampere kept looking out onto the horizon, watching as the sun gently touched the horizon. Thundercracker looked at her profile, speechless. He honestly had no idea what to think about the story this femme had just shared with him, her history, her confessions, her fears and her resolve. Especially her resolve.

In the end, all he could say was, "You're amazing, Ampere."

Ampere looked back up to him, mildly confused.

"Frankly, when we first met, I never would have guessed what you've gone through," Thundercracker elaborated. "You're…you're a lot stronger than I realized."

Ampere just gave him her trademark cheeky grin. "Aww, that's sweet. But really, I'm hardly the worst sob case you're ever going to meet."

Her grin faded to a softer and sadder smile as she became a little more serious.

"Nobody left alive in this war has been able to get through without scars. At least I was lucky enough to sleep through almost the entire war."

"But not everyone would be strong enough to accept those scars like you have," Thundercracker said. "You're not on a revenge tract, you're not living in the past, and you're not letting anger consume you. You went through something terrible, Ampere, and I know it affected you, but you're not letting it define you. That takes a lot of strength. There aren't a whole lot of bots who could do that. I'm not sure I could have done that."

Ampere's optics widened a little, and perhaps it was just an effect of the setting sun or his imagination, but to Thundercracker it almost looked like her optics darkened slightly in a blush. She quickly ducked her head, but not soon enough to hide her small, shy smile.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"I'm just stating the truth," Thundercracker said. But Ampere shook her head.

"No, I mean, thank you. For staying, for listening, even for saving me from my own free fall. Just…thank you."

Thundercracker smiled. "Well. You're welcome then. I was glad to hear about you."

He shifted slightly in his seat, not by much, just enough so that the slight movement bumped his knees against hers.

That was when they both realized they were still sitting rather close to each other.

Thundercracker froze at the discovery, while his own optics darkened in an embarrassed blush. The more active Ampere hopped up like her seat had caught fire and took a couple of steps forward, looking resolutely out into the horizon with her hands behind her back.

"Yes, well, that was a load off my back," she said quickly and a bit too loudly to be casual. "But um, I've taken up enough of your time already. I should really hurry and finish my…um, what was I doing again?"

Thundercracker blinked, but even in his own awkwardness at his inadvertent faux pas he couldn't help but feel amused at seeing Ampere so flustered for once. It was, in a way, bizarrely cute.

"I should be getting back to my patrol anyway," he said as he stood.

"Oh. Um, okay," Ampere said, stubbornly facing the horizon and away from him. "See you later then. Maybe next time you can tell me _your_ deep dark secrets."

Thundercracker turned to take off, but at Ampere's tossed in attempt at a joke, he paused. He was beyond late at this point, so hurrying to finish wouldn't be any use anymore. Maybe that's what made his random thought seem like a good idea. The words were out of his mouth almost before he had time to think about it.

"If you want to join me, I can go ahead and take my turn now."

The way Ampere whirled around, twisting her upper body back to stare incredulously at him with wide optics made Thundercracker desperately wish he could weld his own mouth shut. If there was any possible way to gracefully extract himself from the mortifyingly awkward situation he just threw himself into, it wasn't coming to him. He was just about to spit out an apology (for what, he wasn't exactly sure, but he was pretty sure he must have done something inappropriate if Ampere was looking at him like that), when she relaxed, and smiled.

"I'd like that," she said sincerely.

Thundercracker shuttered his optics as his CPU took a couple of extra seconds to process.

"Oh. Well, good. Okay then," he stuttered, both relieved and nervous for a whole new reason.

He kicked on his thrusters and took to the air as Ampere followed.

"You know," Thundercracker said thoughtfully as they ascended, "there is one good thing about your utterly morbid story."

"That being?" Ampere asked with a raised brow.

"In spite of your best attempt to depress me, it still has a happy ending."

Ampere laughed lightly. "Yeah, I guess it kind of does, doesn't it?"

oOoOoOo

The Security Hub had long since gone dead quiet.

"Primus…" Inferno said. "They…they're practically still kids. They never even signed up for this. They never had a choice."

"We all ceased having a choice a long time ago," Red Alert reminded him. "And they are hardly sparklings; they were all mature adults by the time of the attack. Assuming, of course, that Datum has been truthful to us."

"Ya think he's lying?" Inferno asked.

"It's highly probable," Red Alert said. "First, because he is a Decepticon and is already untrustworthy. Second, because there are several inconsistencies with his story that would need to be clarified. Unfortunately, because of the deal Jazz brokered through Prowl, we cannot further question him on this. Isn't that right, Jazz?"

No response.

"Jazz?" Red Alert tried again.

The Porsche wasn't even listening to him. He was too busy trying to digest what he had just heard and putting it in context with everything else he knew and comparing it to his (not a suspicion not a theory) hunch. The normally unflappable Head of Special Ops felt sick in his churning tanks and he almost felt dizzy.

So many similarities, so many coincidences…but it was just too crazy. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. It didn't make any sense.

"So, that's my sordid history," Datum was saying. "If that's not enough for you or Jazz, then I can't do anything else for you and you should probably seriously consider taking up a new hobby."

"No, that should be enough," Prowl said.

"Then I guess we're done here," Datum replied. He laid back down on his berth with his fingers laced behind his head, just as he was when Prowl first arrived. "Sorry for taking p so much of your time."

Prowl didn't move.

Datum turned his head sideways to look at him quizzically. "We _did_ establish that you don't get to ask me any more questions, right?"

Prowl matched Datum's optics for a moment longer, before he broke away to move over to the console on the side of the wall, next to the barrier of Datum's cell. A few quick key strokes were all it took to bring the shimmering barrier down.

Datum shot up and swung his legs around so that he was sitting up, hands gripping the edge of the berth in betrayal of his shock and fear. When Prowl entered the cell, he slowly stood to meet him, hands at his side in non-aggression (he had no weapons, no way to defend himself, so don't aggravate the Autobot or else this could get really ugly really fast for him) but flexing nervously. Prowl only came in far enough so they were a little over an arm's length apart, his own hands remaining firmly behind him. He spoke without preamble.

"ModiCorp was penetrated because a traitor within the company gave access codes to the extremist group that carried out the attack. He or she also cut the comm. lines and hacked the security network to prevent an automatic alarm from being sent to the Enforcer Headquarters. Everyone inside the building was prevented from sending their own calls by a communication blackout created by one of the specialists the extremists brought with them. However, one employee managed to escape to the roof and send a call for help from her personal comm. Seven Enforcer units of nearly 20 each responded and came."

Datum waited with a blank expression.

"There were 147 person's at Modicorp that day," Prowl went on. "When it was over, casualties numbered at 46, with 8 missing persons. Two were later recovered, but the rest were never found. They were eventually declared dead. 38 members of the extremist cell were either apprehended or killed, including the specialist and the traitor, but the ringleaders were never found."

"Okay…" Datum said slowly. "Why are you telling me this?"

Prowl paused and met Datum's optics evenly.

"I was there, Datum. My unit had been one of the first on the scene."

Datum reeled back as if he'd been punch, and tried to take a step or two back. The back of his knees hit the edge of the berth and he fell hard into a seated position again.

"What?" he asked in a hollow voice.

Prowl shuttered his optics and took a moment to cycle a breath of air before he opened them again.

"I served as an Enforcer for several vorns before I entered the service of Sentinal Prime. The ModiCorp attack was one of my last assignments, and I have carried that memory with me ever since. Datum, I cannot change the past. I cannot rewrite my mistakes. I can't even ask you to forgive us. All I can do is say, I am truly sorry that we – that _I_ failed to save you."

Dumbfounded, Datum could only stare up at the tactician.

Prowl stepped back and away, silently pausing long enough to turn the barrier back on.

"As agreed, you will not be interrogated again for the duration of your stay here," Prowl said, his back turned and his professional, distant demeanor slipping back on like a well worn mask.

"What? Oh, right, okay," Datum said distractedly. Thoughtlessly, he pressed up on the bridge of his nose against his visor in nervous habit.

And just like that, Jazz _knew_.

The Porsche felt his vision swim and tunnel just as he slipped out of his seat to land heavily on weak knees, his body leaning forward and head hanging, the grip he still held on the console being all to keep him from tipping over. It was like watching a puppet collapse after all but one or two of its strings had been cut.

"Jazz!"

"Ya alright?"

Red Alert and Inferno came to either side of him, but Jazz just barely noticed. He felt like his audios were full of static and that time was being stretched out like a thin piece of rubber between tick and tock. His body trembled with horror and shock from the sheer magnitude of what he finally realized.

There were so many similarities.

But there were no coincidences.

Jazz shot to his to his feet, over balanced and nearly tipped over. Inferno caught him, but Jazz pushed off and was running out the door before Inferno could finish saying 'what's gotten into ya?' He sprinted down the halls and took turns so sharply each on threatened to send him crashing to the floor, running so fast he came within a breath of knocking over Hound and tripping over Cliffjumper. Each was saved only because of Jazz's practiced reflexes and because he couldn't afford to be slowed down by a mere crash.

Optimus Prime had to know _now_.

Jazz skidded to a stop just in front of Optimus' office door and practically fell inside. "Optimus!"

"Jazz?" the startled Prime said from behind his desk. He immediately stood up and came around to approach in concern. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Jazz looked up to Optimus, rotors still spinning and running hot from his mad dash. "Prime…I think you're gonna want to sit down for this one."

oOoOoOo

_~ Yesterday ~_

With Freerun having been properly handled, Megatron dismissed the Decepticons and strode down the hall that would take him to his own quarters. A few paces in, well out of sight of the rest of the army, Starscream and Soundwave stood alongside on either wall, as if waiting.

"Circumstances: Unusual," Soundwave intoned. "Normal procedures cannot apply."

"Much as agreeing with the talking metronome pains me, Soundwave is right," Starscream added, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "If you're going to just throw him away to the Autobots after all the time and resources we sank into him, we might as well have taken those resources out in the desert and blown it all up. It would have been so much faster and the men would have enjoyed the show."

"I know perfectly well what this science experiment of yours cost us, Starscream," Megatron said with a warning tone. "That does not mean I'm going to commit more time and mech-power in getting it back than I have to."

"_My_ 'science project?'" Starscream exclaimed indignantly. "This whole thing had been your idea to begin with!"

"Danger: overexposure to Autobots could compromise the project," Soundwave interrupted. "Consequences: unfavorable."

Megatron waved of his 3iC. "I'm not worried about that just yet. But it's better to let Prime stew for awhile and think about what might be happening to his precious Autobot. He'll be eager for a trade."

"If you had already decided to get Datum back, then what was that all about?" Starscream asked, gesturing grandly back to the main hall they had just left.

"That was about teaching your _other_ projects not to pick up anymore of your habits, Starscream."

oOoOoOo

_~ Present ~_

Optimus stared at Jazz.

And stared.

And stared some more.

"Are you absolutely, completely certain about this?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Prime, I'd stake m' life on it," Jazz said gravely. "It sounds crazy, I know, but once you see the picture all the evidence fall into place."

Optimus took a moment to think on that.

"Oh Primus," he groaned. Having not taken Jazz's wise consol to sit first, he now slowly leaned back against the desk behind him as he held his face in one hand. Jazz could certainly relate to what his Commanding Officer was now going through. At least he wasn't on the verge of passing out like Jazz had been.

"At least we've got Datum," Jazz said, trying to be positive. "That's huge. We'll get th' others back too."

"No Jazz, we don't have Datum," Optimus said, his hand still covering his face.

Jazz felt his tanks freeze. "Whaddya mean?"

Optimus lowered his hand and looked sadly down to his 3iC.

"I spoke with Megatron just an hour ago. In exchange for Tracks being returned unharmed, we're giving Datum back to the Decepticons."


	8. Truth Be told

**AN**: I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with the ending of this chapter, but I've been draggin my heels a bit on it, and I figured it was about time to get it posted. Hopefully, now that I've gotten it out of my system, I'll be able to focus on "Little Brother" again.

* * *

Ch. 8 – Truth Be Told

Hours had passed since Freerun left – "left," heh, more like _fled_ – the brig. Tracks' fury at Freeruns attempt at a mind screw had long since been spent, with nothing to show for it but battered hands, a slightly scuffed up floor, and a slightly scratchy voice from yelling too much. He fell into something of a zen mode to protect himself from the mind numbing boredom, shutting out his surroundings and sinking into his own thoughts.

So it took him and extra couple of seconds to realize someone had come and turned off the barrier. He tensed, but his venom was held back when he realized his visitor was too tall and not orange enough.

"I take it that Megatron is done letting me stew?" Tracks asked, his snide tone marred by the slight hoarseness of his voice.

Rather than answering, Astrotrain came in and roughly pulled Tracks to his unsteady feet.

"Today just so happens to be your lucky day," the triple changer said with false cheer. As he detached the chain connecting Tracks' cuffs to the floor, he curtly explained "You're getting traded back for one of our own. Now move it before I drag you out by your ankles."

oOoOoOo

"You can't do that Optimus!" Jazz exclaimed. "You can't just give him back now that we know who he is!"

"That is exactly what we have to do, Jazz," Optimus said wearily. "If we back out of the exchange now, Tracks will suffer for it."

"Well…maybe…we can do something at the trade off," Jazz said almost desperately. He started pacing back and forth in short, sharp cycles as his hands zipped around with his thoughts like panicked birds.

"We can do an ambush, get there early and set up and hide some of our guys in the environment, Mirage especially with Hound and Trailbreaker keeping the Arielbots close by and hidden so that we can have Superion there ASAP in case it turns nasty, or maybe Windcharger can pull Datum back like a dollar on a string once we've got Tracks again, his magnets have gotta be useful for _something_, or – pit, what if Freerun an' Ampere are there too? Datum's their buddy, they've gotta come, what if we-"

Optimus grabbed his 3iC by the shoulders.

"Jazz, stop."

The Prime turned the Porsche around to face him, keeping him in place with a gentle but strong grip.

"We're not going to ignore this," Optimus told him firmly. "We have only two hours before Megatron expects to meet us at the designated location and ninety minutes before we have to leave. I can give you twenty minutes at most to compile a quick report of your findings and evidence, then I'm calling for an emergency officers meeting. I don't need to tell you this is a complicated situation, and there isn't going to be an easy answer right now, but we're going to use this time the best we can."

Jazz lowered his head, and nodded in understanding, feeling marginally better with a course of action. He was already drafting the report and lining up his observations to convince all the officers of the impossible in as little time as possible. Optimus released his hold on Jazz's shoulders and straightened. He turned and seated himself back behind his desk.

"Jazz..." he said quietly, "Prowl shouldn't have to find out about this during the meeting."

The Special Ops mech nodded in understanding. "I'll tell 'im Prime."

"I can do it, if you prefer," Optimus offered. "You need to compile your findings anyway."

Jazz was already shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'd rather he heard it from me."

"As you wish, Jazz."

As the door slid just behind his 3iC, Optimus turned around and leaned heaving against the desk, letting his head hang low and off-lining his optics. He needed to just let everything settle down around his shoulders, a moment of quiet as he let everything wash over him.

One.

Two.

Three.

His optics flashed back on and he straightened. He came back around the desk and compiled a quick, to the point message for all his officers to assemble for an Emergency Officers Meeting within the next thirty minutes, and to be as discreet about it as possible so as to not alert anyone else that something was going on. He did not, however, include any indication of what the meeting was for. This was something that had to be revealed and explained in person.

That Chip, Raoul and Astoria, at the very least, were still alive…as Decepticons.

oOoOoOo

The news went over about as well as expected.

"With all due respect, Jazz, have you completely lost your mind?"

"Couple of times, but I got it back quick."

"I'm being serious!"

"Jazz's research is solid, Red Alert," Optimus said from the head of the table. "He collaborated with Elita's team on Cybertron to verify as much of the information as possible. You all have copies of his report, and you'll be getting a longer, more detailed one later. But even now, there is no question about the true fates of Astoria, Raoul, and Chip. We now have slightly less than an hour to decide if there's anything we can do about the one still sitting in our brig."

Hot Spot held his hand up.

"Wait, back up. Pretending for a moment that I believe all of…" he gestured vaguely to the datapad in front of him, "…this…then how can we be sure it's Astoria, Datum, and Raoul specifically? First of all, they're dead. We found the bodies and everything. Second, they weren't the only ones taken; theirs were only the bodies we actually recovered. How can you be so sure that, I don't know, Ampere isn't actually Charlotte?"

"Because Charlotte's profile is the complete opposite of Ampere's," Jazz answered. "But if Ampere and Astoria really were separate people, then their histories and personalities would be freakishly similar. Once would be a coincidence. But three times? Somthin's goin' on here."

Silverbolt held his head in his hands as he slowly shook it back in forth. "This is…this is too much, too fast. I've read the report, but I can't bring myself to believe that what you're saying is true. There has to be a mistake. They're dead. They died seven months ago. How could they possibly be alive as Cybertronians? How is that _physically_ possible?"

"According to Datum," Prowl said, "Ampere and Freerun witnessed this 'Faceless' character touching Datum's temples immediately after death, then Ampere saw him do the same thing to Freerun. We can assume he repeated the gesture with her. Soundwave did something similar when he extracted data from Chips mind with his telepathic abilities. We already know that the kidnappings at least were all carried out by Soundwaves cassettes. The chances of Faceless being a subconscious memory of Soundwave are almost 100%. We cannot be certain of the exact details of the procedure, but we can extrapolate that Soundwave may have 'downloaded' their memories and later uploaded them to their new bodies, similar to what happened with Spike when his consciousness was transferred to Autobot X."

Jazz's poker face never wavered, but behind his visor his optics flickered over to the monochromatic mech seated across from him. Most others would look at Prowl and think he was being as logical and emotionally distant as he ever was. If they were charitable, they'd think he was putting up a front so he could continue his duties. If they were cynical, they might question how he could learn of Chips fate, the ultimate fate of one of his few friends, and not _react_. But Jazz could see plain as day the signs; the slightly dulled optics, the perfectly even, near monotonous tone as he stated facts and logical conclusions with no personal input of his own, the absolute lack of inflections, how he didn't look at anyone…

Looking at him now, no one could have guessed the state he had been in just a short while ago. How he had thrown up a wall of disbelief, then anger as Jazz insisted what he had just said was not a tasteless joke. How his optics widened and morphed his expression into one of shocked horror as he finally started to understand what Jazz was saying. How he had stumbled back as if physically punched, knees going weak and failing him. How Jazz had dashed forward to catch him before he could completely collapse, clutching his head in agony as his logic circuits blitzed and fried. How his optics dulled, right before he stood up, and blandly offered to help Jazz organize his findings for his report.

Shutting off ones emotion matrix was never considered a good idea. But Prowl needed to be here. Not just because they needed him (they did, but they all would have understood if he abstained from the meeting), but because he needed to be here, to listen, debate, participate, even if he had to completely surrender to his over developed logic computer to keep functioning.

Jazz just hoped he wouldn't leave it on for too long.

"Fine, I can accept that something like this could be possible," Red Alert said, bringing Jazz back to the present, "But if what you are saying is true, then our next course of action would have to depend heavily on whether or not we can realistically believe that the humans still exist anymore. Whatever origins Datum, Freerun, and Ampere had, we can't forget that they are still enthusiastic Decepticons today, serving Megatron by their own free will."

"Actually, I think 'enthusiastic' might be putting it a bit too strongly," Wheeljack said thoughtfully, rereading a few paragraphs. "From the way Datum described it, it sounds more like they're just trying to work with the cards they've been dealt. Not their fault they got a bad hand."

"Perhaps, but he was hardly conflicted about it."

"I saw Datum risk bodily harm t' save a human," Jazz said firmly. "A Decepticon that values alien life has got t' have conflicts with the way Megatron runs things. He's just not stupid enough to share them with _us_."

"And remember when we first met them at that research facility?" Trailbreaker said suddenly. "Ampere would have had to have gone through a lot of trouble to round up all the humans and put them in a safe place. On top of that, she later spared Jazz's life AND numbed his leg when she saw how busted it was. Between her and Datum, they're not making very good Decepticons."

"On the other hand, their actions could be explained by lack of experience and exposure to combat," Smokescreen pointed out. "That was their first day on the job, and nobody short of a psychopath is readily able to kill right off the bat. Our evidence can't rely solely on early bouts of mercy."

Red Alert, used to taking turns with Prowl playing Devil's Advocate, actually looked mildly surprised to have a like-minded ally at the table. But Smokescreen then leaned forward on the table and addressed everyone.

"I can't speak for Datum and Ampere," he said. "But I saw what happened when Freerun met Tracks for the first time. Freerun wouldn't stop staring at him, like nothing else existed; I remember thinking how strange it was. Pit, I thought it was getting downright creepy. But when Tracks talked to him, I saw the way his expression changed, as if he just realized something…huge. He got away from us before we could ask any questions, but not before he was able to say one thing. Tell me, does anyone else remember what it was?"

"He said, 'I know you,'" Optimus quoted quietly.

Dead silence.

"Freerun had never seen Tracks before in his life," Smokescreen said solemnly. "But Raoul had not forgotten his best friend so quickly."

Ratchet frowned. "Hang on. If that's all it took to trigger Free…Ra…_his_ memory, even just a little, then why didn't it happen to Ampere or Datum already?"

"Maybe it did and we didn't get to see it, or Tracks said or did something specific to Raoul's experience, I can't know," Smokescreen said. "But regarding whether or not they can be 'brought back'…well, until I know otherwise, I'd prefer to operate on the side of optimism."

"What I don't get is what Megatron gains from this," Blaster said. "He would have had to sink a lot of time, energy and resources into this. What does he get from turning humans into Decepticons and making them honest to Primus believe that they've always been Cybertronians?"

"Three mentally stable, uniquely modified troops to fill his ranks?" Trailbreaker guessed.

"He didn't need to kill humans to build the Stunticons, or Starscream the Combaticons."

"Yeah, but they're not exactly shining examples of loyalty and mental stability either."

"True. But they're also more expendable and didn't take more than a few days to build. Datum, Ampere, and Freerun would have taken months, maybe a year or more to plan, prepare, and build. What exactly is the payoff?"

Red Alerts' optics widened.

"The payoff is having three raw recruits who already have an intuitive understanding of the Autobots on Earth," he said. "The memories are gone or at least modified, but something in the subconscious still lives on. That's why Datum was able to predict Jazz so accurately, and why he knew Prowl well enough to recognize his questions from Jazz's. Primus, he's even…"

He touched the bridge of his nose and looked at Jazz.

"…he's even still trying to adjust his glasses, like he's been doing for nearly all his life."

"Yep," was all Jazz had to say.

"So does that mean the other humans are alive too as Decepticons on Cybertron?" Hot Spot asked.

"Elita made no mention of such," Optimus said. "But I can ask her to keep and optic out, and see if any of her spies can find any information about that. But our main concern right now is for the three we already know about."

Ironhide slammed a large hand on the table.

"Well what're we waiting for? We can't let the 'Cons keep 'em! We've already got – Chip back, now we gotta grab Raoul and Astoria before Megatron can screw them up anymore than he already has. Soon as they learn the truth, they'll drop the purple logo faster than a hot rivet. Or we can smack some sense into them, whichever works."

"It's not that simple Ironhide," Prowl intoned. "Their implanted memories make them believe themselves to be Cybertronians. They will not readily accept the truth. Coming from us, their enemies, they have no reason to believe any evidence we present is based on facts and every reason to believe it to be an attempt at an elaborate ruse."

"It wouldn't even be a very good ruse," Ratchet commented sardonically. "Three humans kidnapped and their bodies killed so their consciousness could be transferred to Cybertronian bodies with fabricated memories to top it off? If it was a movie it'd get slammed for being contrived and unrealistic."

"Okay, so it'll take a couple rounds," Ironhide conceded. "But we've gotta get them away from the 'Cons. And we're sure as Pit not giving Da-Chip to them!"

"The agreement has already been made to trade him for Tracks' safe return," Optimus reminded him. "For everyone's safety, the exchange needs to continue. Any hint of tricks or attacks or any attempt to pull back Datum, and we risk Tracks' life."

"Ya can't be serious Prime! Ya can't give Chip back to the 'Cons! You know what they're like. Who knows how much longer any of them are gonna last before they get shot in th' back?"

"Datum's safer with the Decepticons than Tracks is right now," Trailbreaker pointed out. "And to be honest, I don't see him staying here with us peacefully so long as Ampere and Freerun are still with Megatron. They've got an 'all for one and one for all' thing going on now. If we want to get them back, I think it's going to have to be all at once or none."

"What if we tried bugging Datum before the trade?" Silverbolt asked. "It could get us valuable information, maybe help us figure out just how deeply buried their human psyches are, or give us clues as to how we can trigger more memories like with Freerun and Tracks."

"Checking for bugs and hidden traps is standard procedure post prisoner exchange," Red Alert said. "Even if we can plat something on Datum without his noticing, I can't be so confident of it getting past Megatrons security. And while I hold Wheeljacks abilities in high regard, I doubt even he can design and construct a tiny undetectable near indestructible monitoring device."

Wheeljack sat up to protest.

"In less than fifteen minutes," Red Alert finished.

Wheeljack sat back down again.

"I don't believe you mechs!" Ironhide exclaimed. "I ain't about t' give up on this. There's gotta be SOMETHING we can do!"

"Right now, our options are limited," Prowl said. "One way or another, the trade needs to happen as agreed, sticking to the terms Optimus and Megatron set. But while Megatron most likely anticipated our eventual discovery, he doesn't know it's happened yet. This could still be used used to our advantage. It is unlikely even his own troops know where their new recruits came from."

Blaster raised his hand.

"While we're on the subject, are we going to be telling everyone else about this, or is this going to be one of those on-a-need-to-know basis things?"

No one said anything for several long seconds.

"Everyone will need to know," Optimus said. "Otherwise they could inadvertently kill the wrong Decepticon, or give then genuine reasons to hate and distrust us. But not until after the exchange; I don't want anyone doing anything rash.

"We are out of time. We will continue this later."

oOoOoOo

The exchange was to take place exactly at noon out in the wide flat plains of the desert, which provided no cover for ambushes and no hiding places for traps. Tracks, not having anti-grav thrusters and unable to transform with his hands still bound, was being carried in Astrotrains hold with Ampere (and her twitching Imps) keeping guard over him. Soundwave stood off to the side with his back to the wall, quietly waiting. Flying behind and a little over the triple changer was Skywarp (because the Autobots would rather the teleporting little fiend stay where they could see him), flying quietly for once.

At a certain point, Soundwave lifted a hand and knocked twice against Astrotrain's interior. He descended, and everyone disembarked upon landing, Ampere guiding Tracks from behind. She (and everyone else) left her weapons behind as part of the exchange agreement, but fortunately her Imps were attached to her shoulders and didn't technically count as weapons according to Decepticon sensibilities.

And if the Autobots had a problem with it, Ampere would happily tell them where to stick it. Better yet, she'd show them.

Soundwave turned to address Skywarp as the Seeker touched down at the edge of the group.

"Order: Fly ahead and scout the location for advance Autobot activities. Addendum: leave Freerun behind."

Ampere and Tracks stared at Soundwave, then Skywarp.

"Freerun? What're you talking about?" Skywarp asked, feigning ignorance.

"Behavior: Unusual. Staying to the back rather than racing ahead, keeping too quiet, inconsistent with regular actions. Conclusion: hiding something. Explanation: hiding Freerun, who wanted to see Datum returned safe."

There was a silent beat, before something small and orange dropped off of Skywarps back.

"Sorry," Skywarp whispered as Freerun came around.

"FREERUN! What are you doing here!" Ampere yelled angrily. She pushed Tracks aside, nearly knocking him over as she stomped angrily to the shorter runner.

"The terms of the exchange are for just Soundwave, Astrotrain, Skywarp and me to be here!" she yelled at him. "If the Autobots see you-! Do you have any idea how badly you might have screwed this up?"

"Reaction: overstated," Soundwave put in.

Ampere whirled around at him. "YOUR teammate isn't the POW here," she hissed. "You don't get a say in this."

"Datum's my best friend too." Freerun said, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to just sit back and hope for the best. What if the Autobots tried pulling something at the last minute?"

"That's why _the rest of us are here, you little idiot_," Ampere growled. "Astrotrain for the muscle, Skywarp to scout, me with the 'weapon', and Soundwave to make sure nobody screws around – which you seem desperate to do yourself!"

"I'm not that stupid!" Freerun shot back. "I know how to stay out of sight, and what's wrong with having an ace in the hole in case the worst happens?"

"Argument: Irrelevant." Soundwave interrupted again. "Freerun: to be dealt with later."

Ampere pulled back, still fuming. She stomped away, radiating anger. Freerun watched her go, and then looked away with his arms crossed. He hadn't meant to get her so angry, but he knew well enough to not take it personally. She was worried; they both were. Nerves were a bit frayed. But he sure as pit wasn't going just wait around. He needed to be taking action, fraggit!

Skywarp leaned over Freerun shoulder slightly.

"So…when to I get my 'thanks'?" he asked saucily.

Expression not changing, Freerun flipped one hand up and smacked Skywarp in the face. It didn't hurt, but the surprise stumbled the Seeker back with comical surprise.

Astrotrain smirked, and even Ampere cracked a grin. Tracks watched in disinterest. Soundwave, as always, was impassive.

"Reminder: Skywarp needs to scout ahead."

"I'm just getting to that."

"Order: Do not fire unless fired upon first," Soundwave added as Skywarp took off.

"Right, right, got it. No playing potshots with Autobots. Sheesh you're picky."

oOoOoOo

About a mile away, a handful of Autobots (and one Decepticon) patiently waited as a red plane landed in front of them.

"Everything looks clear," Powerglide reported. "Saw Skywarp flying by doing some scouting too."

"Great." Jazz said. "Now we go the rest of th' way on foot. Let's get marchin' people."

Mirage (who had to be present so Soundwave could be certain he wasn't being invisible somewhere else) took the lead, with Powerglide taking the back and Jazz in between leading Datum along.

"Bit of a shame you had t' leave so soon," Jazz said to him as they walked, with a quiet voice and a grin. "And just when we were getting' t' be friends."

"My most sincere apologies Jazz, but I have an engagement I simply cannot miss," Datum said back in mock regret. "Tell you what, I'll make sure we have lots of time to talk next time, when it's your turn to visit."

Jazz chuckled. "Touche."

He paused. He knew what Optimus said, but this was an opportunity than he couldn't let pass him by…

"You know," Jazz 'admitted,' "you're not quite what I expected."

Datum turned his head slightly to look at him from the corner of his vision.

"Shockingly, not all Decepticons are over built flying tanks." Datum's tone was dryer than the desert they were standing in.

"It's more than that," Jazz said. "You know I've got a knack for readin' people. It's why I'm so good at my job. And my impression of you is a good mech with a clear understanding of where he is. So why're you working for Megatron?"

Datum's slight grin faded into mild confusion. "Didn't we go over this yesterday with my sordid history?"

"I get why you went with the 'Cons off the bat," Jazz said. "Y' didn't have much choice then, and they did pull ya'll outta stasis. But three months is plenty of time t' figure out th' kinda leader Megatron is. I can already tell you aren't that ruthless. So why're you stickin' around?"

Datum's expression darkened. "We had a deal, remember? You don't get to ask any more questions."

"First off, the deal was for inside the base, and we're not there anymore," Jazz pointed out. "Second…Datum, do you realize that you were answerin' all of Prowls follow questions _except_ for the one asking how you felt about Megatron?"

"What is this, a last minute attempt to psychoanalyze me? Are you hoping to get me spilling about all my childhood insecurities and convert me to an Autobot?"

"If I offered, would you accept?" Jazz asked quietly.

Datum stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

Jazz pushed up against the back of Datum's shoulder to keep the scientist moving before Powerglide could ask what was wrong.

"You're a scientist, Datum, not a killer," Jazz went on. "I already saw that you value life. I know you like making things with your own hands; it's why you went into engineering. You want to be a creator, not a conqueror."

"Stop it," Datum said lowly. "Stop trying to screw around with me. Believe it or not, I know something of loyalty, and I'm NOT ever going to betray my own!"

"Ampere and Freerun don't belong with the Decepticons anymore than you do."

"Don't talk like you know us," Datum warned angrily.

"I know more about you than you think."

Datum's visor flared, and with a horrible sickening feeling Jazz realized he went too far.

Datum stopped to whirl around and face Jazz, snarling. He was only half a head taller at most, but right then he almost seemed to tower over the Autobot like a monolith. The sharp movement was enough to grab the attentions of Mirage and Powerglide, and everyone stopped to watch.

"Let's get one thing straight, _Autobot_," Datum said. "I'm not being forced to follow Megatron. I do it because it's my choice. You want to know why? It's because even if I don't agree with his methods, I still believe in his goals."

"Decepticon conquest and dominance over everything?" Jazz asked.

"As opposed to a slow self destructive death with the Autobots? Pit yes. It's great to preach equality and respect for all species, but when it comes down to choosing survival or extinction, I choose survival. You can hate the means, but the end is a revival of Cybertron and a new age of growth and expansion. We were _dying_, Jazz, even before the war, and Megatron is the only mech who was willing to do something to challenge our fate. That's more than I can say for Optimus!"

Jazz stood there, looking like he had just been punched in the figurative guts.

Datum was pulled down roughly by an angry minibot. "Don't you dare talk about Optimus like that! Megatron isn't going to save Cybertron, he's going to destroy it with this war before he gives up!"

"Powerglide, stop," Jazz said, still looking dazed. "This isn't…I'm not in the mood for more fighting right now."

Powerglide stared at Jazz, shocked speechless that he'd let the Decepticon get away with defaming their leader. Datum looked away and glared at the horizon, too angry to look at any of them. Jazz looked honestly dazed, scarily resembling Prowl when his logic circuits froze up right before the crash. Mirage shifted on his pedes, desperate for something to break the increasingly tense and awkward atmosphere.

Thankfully, Primus was feeling generous today.

"Oh, ah, Jazz, they're here," Mirage announced.

The Porsche snapped out of his daze and returned to reality. Indeed, they could see the Decepticons approaching now also on foot, Soundwave in the lead with Ampere flanking him. Behind them came Astrotrain, pushing Tracks along before him. Taking up the rear, more out of lazy boredom than anything, was Skywarp, trolling along with his hands laced behind his head. Both groups stopped when there was exactly 300 feet of empty space between them, and neither would take one step more. Jazz guided Datum to the front of their little crew, as Astrotrain did with Tracks.

"A'ight everybody, y'all know the drill," Jazz called out. "We let the prisoners walk across t' their own sides by themselves, no tricks or anything. We get our guy back, we all go home happy."

"Conditions: Understood," Soundwave said.

It wasn't a signal exactly, but Astrotrain gave Tracks one last harder than strictly necessary shove that had him nearly tripping for several clumsy steps before he could right himself and continue walking forward normally. Jazz hesitated for barely half a breath, but in that time he gave Datums shoulder one last quick squeeze, before he let his hand drop away. No pushing, merely release. Confused, Datum almost turned to glance at him, wondering just what was going though his head. But he was too peeved to spare him so much as a backward glance as he walked away.

As if it were rehearsed, Tracks and Datum reached the center of the No Man's Land almost at the same time.

"Your Third is crazy, just so you know," Datum mentioned as he approached.

"Your runner is a sadist, just so _you_ know," Tracks replied as he passed.

Datums optics shuttered, and he half turned to stare at Tracks. But the moment was passed, and no answers would be coming.

As per the explicitly worded and extremely strict terms of the prisoner exchange, none of the Autobots could step forward to greet Tracks as he approached, lest it be "accidently" interpreted as a preemptive attack. But they were able to enfold Tracks once he made it across to them on his own.

"How're you feelin' Tracks?" Jazz asked as he made short work of the corvettes cuffs.

"I've been better, but nothing a comfortable berth and shower won't fix," Tracks said with a tired but genuine grin. "Perhaps a new coat of wax, I'm starting to lose my shine. There's a carwash in the city with a divine premium service, I'd love to stop there before heading back to the Ark."

"Oh yeah, you're fine," Powerglide noted dryly. But he pulled the energon cube out of his subspaced and passed it over to the blue mech, who gratefully accepted it.

As Tracks drank, Jazz looked over across the field. Astrotrain had transformed and looked as impatient to go as a shuttle could, Soundwave was waiting off to the side, and Skywarp watched with his arms crossed and a curious look as Datum was warmly greeted and fussed over by Ampere and…hold the phone.

"Was Freerun hidin' behind Astrotrain's leg this whole time or somethin'?" he asked.

Powerglide and Mirage snapped back to attention. No one noticed how Track's expression darkened at the name.

"Freerun's here?" Mirage said angrily. "It was only supposed to be Soundwave, Ampere, and Astrotrain. They shouldn't have been allowed to bring anyone else!"

Jazz raised a hand to quell the spy.

"Relax Raj, they're not exactly charging t' battle over there," he said. "I'm guessing Freerun just couldn't wait t' see Datum again. Not sure how he got here without anybody noticin' though."

"He hitched a ride on Skywarps back getting out here, and Soundwave couldn't be bothered to send him back," Tracks answered, grip tightening reflexively around his cube. "Proving himself to not only be a malicious Pit-spawn, but an undisciplined little twit as well."

The sheer venom in his voice regained all the Autobots attention. For Jazz, it inspired a sense of shock, horror, and incredible sadness for an entirely different reason.

The roar of engines announced the Decepticons departure.

"Right mechs, time t' be gettin' outta here ourselves," Jazz announced with a clap of his hands, cheerful mask firmly in place. "I keep Tracks out here much longer and Ratchet'll be using my head for target practice. Transform an' roll out mechs."

oOoOoOo

An hour and fifteen minutes later found Tracks sitting on a Medbay berth nursing an enriched energon cube while Ratchet passed over his with a few scanning tools and did the usual final questionnaire.

"Any problems with your vision or hearing?"

"No."

"Any pain in your joints when you move?"

"Just some stiffness, nothing a drive and a good walk can't fix."

"Did you consume anything while on the Nemesis?"

"Half a cube of energon, but that was it."

Ratchet looked up at Tracks with genuine surprise. "Really? Huh. I don't know what's more shocking; that the Decepticons fed you or that you trusted them enough to take it. Not that I'm complaining – that half cube was probably the only thing that kept your systems just this side of the red zone until now."

"I knew it hadn't been tampered with," Tracks said as he stood. "That was the only reason I accepted it at all."

The Corvette wasn't about to mention the price he had to pay for it. That was too personal, and it wasn't any of Ratchet's business anyway. Maybe Optimus' or Prowls, since they tended to want to know about these kind of things, but not Ratchets.

Speaking of whom, the Doctors expression had just shifted to something Tracks couldn't identify.

"Tracks, out of curiosity, was Freerun the one who brought it to you?" he asked.

Tracks' shocked expression was answer enough.

Ratchet turned his back and busied himself with setting his scanners and tools away.

"The Decepticons don't have much surplus energon, and Megatron wouldn't waste what they had on a prisoner he was only keeping for a day," Ratchet said as he worked. "If Freerun wanted to bring you any and not get caught, he'd have to take it from his own rations."

"It wasn't like he did it out of the goodness of his spark!" Tracks said vehemently. "He only gave it to me because he supposedly wanted answers."

Ratchets hands froze.

No, it wasn't his place to press the questions about the answers "Freerun" wanted. Nor did he want to be the one to tell Tracks about…everything. He would have to leave that to Optimus, for later.

"I don't know what happened and I'm not the one you should be talking about this too," the CMO said instead. "But do you remember how the energon tasted?"

Tracks frowned, but he had gulped the cube down so fast the taste never had a chance to register.

"You only had half a cube to sustain you for nearly 24 hours," Ratchet went on, carefully neutral. "Even assuming it was regular energon, that should not have been nearly enough to sustain you, let alone keep you walking and talking until now. By all accounts, you should have been just barely keeping out of stasis lock by the time Jazz got you back."

"What are you trying to tell me, Ratchet? That I actually _was_ drugged?"

"No. I already checked, your systems are clean. Everything checks out, except that your energy levels are too high for the number of cubes you say you've had between being taken prisoner and your return. The only possible explanation for your current levels is that Freerun gave you a highly enriched cube, one that would have had to have been concentrated from at least three regular ones. That would have been his entire days rations going to you."

Tracks stared at Ratchet, uncomprehending. "That's…that doesn't make any sense. You must be mistaken, there's no reason he'd do that for me. There is absolutely nothing he could have gained from sacrificing his own day's rations he couldn't have gotten from one diluted cube."

"Like I said, I'm not the one you should be talking to about this. I just thought you needed to know. You're cleared now. Optimus is expecting you in his office; he needs to speak to you about your time in the Decepticon base."

Tracks left the Medbay in something of a daze, the exact same thought running around his head: Why, why, why, why…?

No.

Whatever Freeruns reason's, it wasn't nearly enough to make Tracks forgive him for pulling out such a painful, personal memory and treating it like a game. He could put on a show of being friendly and nonthreatening, but he was just as sick and dangerous as every other Decepticon Tracks had spent most of his life fighting. He was just better at hiding it when it suited him. Well, that would be the last time he allowed the little cretin to rile him up.

Tracks came out of his thoughts when he realized he could hear yelling. As he walked further along, he realized with a shock that it was coming from Optimus' Primes office. He didn't recognize the voice right away, but it was angry and upset. Something about…well, Tracks had no idea what it was about, except that the yeller was refusing to believe it.

"He was wrong! He has to be wrong! She's not…she wouldn't ever…"

He broke down, unable to continue. Tracks slowed to a stop, awkwardly standing by the door, close enough to hear Primes more familiar rumble saying something, offering comfort probably.

Just as Tracks was starting to wonder if he should come back later, he heard rapid movement inside right before the door slid open and something small and red popped out. He had turned and nearly run right into Tracks in the same instant it took the corvette to recognize him.

"Powerglide?" he said automatically, surprised.

The plane didn't answer. He didn't even seem to even realize he was there. He just pushed off and ran away, as if in a panic. Tracks watched him flee, utterly confused and a little disturbed at seeing the macho flier, usually full of daredevil bravado, looking so…broken.

"Tracks." Optimus stood in the doorway, looking sad and tired. "Thank you for coming so soon. I'm sorry you had to see that. Powerglide and I had to have a…difficult conversation."

"I see," Tracks said, although he didn't.

Optimus stepped back in. "Come inside Tracks, I need to speak with you also."

With a sinking feeling of dread, Tracks followed. Somehow, this didn't feel like it was going to be some regular debriefing.

"Shortly after Megatron's newest recruits arrived, Jazz became convinced that they were more than just regular Decepticons," Optimus began. "He started an investigation to learn more about them, who they are and where they came from. He even contacted Elita on Cybertron for her help in verifying some of the data and to access the remaining historical records she could find. Just today, he was able to draw conclusions as to who, exactly, they are."

Tracks was now officially confused.

"Sir, what does this have to do with me?" he asked.

Optimus briefly paused, as if carefully weighing his next words.

"Do you remember the incident where Spike's consciousness had to be transferred to the Autobot X creation of Sparkplugs?"

"Hard to forget."

"After looking at Jazz's compiled data, we have strong reasons to believe that the Decepticons have done something similar, to fill their ranks."

Tracks stared blankly at him.

"…I'm sorry, what?"

"Now that they no longer have access to Vector Sigma, Megatron seems to be experimenting with Cybertronian bodies being animated by human consciousness." Optimus clarified. "Whether he plans to carry this project further, or if the recruits are something of a prototype, we can't guess at yet. But if Megatron wanted to repeat the experiment…well, trying to purposely induce a coma in a human is dangerous, and they certainly don't have the medical finesse for that. What we're beginning to think happened is that the humans had been killed instead, quickly but leaving the brain intact, to sever the tie between mind and body. Then the mind, the memories and consciousness, would have to be immediately uploaded before the brain synapses stopped firing. It leaves a small window of opportunity, but a window nonetheless."

"This sounds like a lot of supposition," Tracks pointed out.

"True," Optimus acknowledged. "Most of the evidence is circumstantial. But the patterns are unmistakable, if disturbing."

Tracks frowned. "If you're correct, then this is potentially going to completely change how we fight. A lot of Autobots here won't be comfortable firing back on an enemy who's essentially been brainwashed into being a Decepticon. Come to think of it, this might be something most of us would be better off not knowing. No one should have to be afraid to defend themselves."

"It's more complicated than that, Tracks." Optimus said. "The Decepticons didn't use just any humans. Red Alert believes the goal was to take humans most familiar with the Autobots because they would be of the most use to Megatron. Even with their memories incomplete and altered, the humans have managed to maintain an intuitive understanding of the Autobots on Earth, an understanding that could prove invaluable to Megatron. Datum already used it to deflect Jazz's questions successfully, and Freerun to keep calm in a situation most other Decepticons would have reacted violently to."

Tracks started to shake his head. "I can see why this is all so important, Optimus, but I'm afraid I still don't understand why you needed to speak to me about-"

He froze.

Comprehension didn't dawn on him so much as it slapped him in the face. That didn't mean he was ready to acknowledge it.

"Prime," he said in a hollow voice, "what exactly are you trying to tell me?"

Optimus put a hand on Tracks' shoulder.

"There is no easy way to say this," he said gravely. "But Raoul-"

"NO!"

Tracks pulled away as if burned, optics wide and desperate.

"No, it's not possible!" he insisted. "Raoul's dead! We found his body, they buried him, I was at his funeral Optimus! I've been…do you have any idea how many times I've gone over his last day in my head, trying to figure out what I could have done different? Do you have ANY idea what I went through after that? And now you're telling me he might not be quite so dead after all??"

"I know this is hard for you," Optimus said in his ever empathetic patience. "It took Jazz four months of careful observation to realize it. Even then, he wasn't able to put all the pieces together until today."

Tracks kept shaking his head, backing up another step, rejecting everything he was saying because Raoul was dead and Tracks had mourned and grieved and had finally started to move on that _this shouldn't be happening to him_.

"No no no no," he kept saying. "You don't understand, this can't be possible. Even if, even if Megatron really was using humans like this, if Raoul was alive, I'd know it! I'd have, sensed it or something. I would have been able to recognize him, I'd know if it were him-"

"_I…know you." _

He froze.

"_Coming from a narcissist like you, I'm not surprised."_

It was as if everything inside of him had fallen away and left behind an empty shell, a black hole in his own body sucking everything away.

"_Then all of a sudden, this big blue leg comes out of nowhere, from the alley to the right of me, and I just slam right into it_."

Tracks slowly sank to his knees, and clutched his head as the images and voice clips played themselves over and over at a frantic pace.

"_The only possible explanation for your current levels is that Freerun gave you a highly enriched cube, one that would have had to have been concentrated from at least three regular ones. That would have been his entire days rations going to you."_

"_Do you remember me?"_

"Oh Primus, he was right there and I never realized it!" he said, optics wide in horror. "Primus I didn't…I should have seen it! He remembered me but I never recognized him! How could I have not recognized him?!"

Optimus was there, kneeling next to him with a hand on his back and another on his shoulder, firm, steady hands offering comfort and support.

"Tracks, you couldn't have possibly have known," Optimus said. "No one saw this coming. Jazz only figured it out because he had the random thought to try looking for it, and even then it took him months to find enough evidence for it."

"But I should have realized _something_ when he _came_ to me," Tracks insisted. "He gave me his entire day's rations so I wouldn't pass out, he-"

He finally looked up at the taller Prime in desperation. "Optimus, he was asking me if I remembered him. He wanted to know more than anything else that _I_ remembered _him_."

Optimus' head reared back in surprise. But Tracks wasn't finished yet, the words coming faster like the rat-a-tat-tat-tat of an automatic weapon.

"Freerun even shared a memory with me, something he said he remembered when we first met. He remembers us being ambushed by Soundwave, when he kicked me in the grill. It's messed up, he thinks he was the car and I was the blue leg, but at least he still realized that I was _there_ with him. He doesn't remember Raoul but he _remembers_ and….oh Primus, I've made a terrible mistake!"

"Tracks, you were being held prisoner in a Decepticon brig, there was nothing you could have done differently," Optimus said. "If anything, this is good news: not only does it prove beyond a doubt that Jazz is right, it offers compelling evidence that the humans can be brought back, with their memories restored. They'll never be human again, but they won't be our enemies anymore. We have a chance to save them."

But Tracks was shaking his head.

"No Optimus, that's not it. He was right there, right in front of me, he had given me the perfect opening, except I was too angry and too suspicious to see it. Instead I…"

"_GET OUT!" Tracks exploded, and he threw the half-empty cube at Freerun with all his might._

_The cube crashed harmlessly against the field, but Freerun leapt back as if he had been attacked, feet leaving the air, running away as soon as they touched down again, running away and not once looking back and not coming back again._

"…I attacked him Optimus. I almost had my best friend back, and instead I chased him off with my anger and hate. Optimus, what am I going to _do_?"

Optimus kept his arm wrapped around Tracks' shoulders, but said nothing. There was nothing _to_ say. There were no easy answers, no clear solutions to this awful, ugly mess.

Outside the room, the intercom crackled to life with Jazz's voice filling the corridors.

"_Hey people, we're havin' a base wide assembly at 14 hundred hours. Attendance is mandatory for everybody, and I do mean _everybody_. All us officers have something important t' say, and you're all gonna wanna hear it."_


	9. Foremost Duty

Ch. 9 ~ Foremost Duty

Three humans were kidnapped.

These humans were later found dead.

The Autobots mourned, coped, came to accept the tragedy and moved on.

Three new Decepticons show up.

These Decepticons are later declared by their leaders to be the aforementioned dead humans made metal.

The Autobots were suitably stunned, shocked, horrified and in disbelief.

For weeks afterwards emotions ranged from straight out denial at the sheer impossibility of it, to frothing fury at the audacity of it, to spark-wrenching horror at the cruelty of it. It was the only thing anyone could talk about, and the debates could run long and angry. The only ones who weren't particularly perturbed by recent events were the Dinobots. As Grimlock put it, "They Decepticons. Dinobots smash Decepticons."

"For once, I'm in agreement."

"Cliffjumper!" Hound exclaimed. "How can you be so callous?"

"I'm being practical," Cliffjumper said. "What happened sucks bearings, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stand there and let them shoot me because someone says they're just poor little victims of circumstance who got their processors screwed up."

"But they don't know what they're doing!" Hound insisted. "We need to _help_ them, not treat them like the enemy."

"How? By inviting over for oil and energon goodies?" Cliffjumper asked. "In case you haven't noticed, they're not wearing those purple sigils as fashion statements. They shoot me, I'm shooting back."

"Even at the risk of killing them?"

"I'm not going to hold back when it comes to defending myself."

The current conversation was taking place at a corner table in the rec room, populated by Hound, Beachcomber, Perceptor, Brawn and Cliffjumper. Why was such a diverse group sitting together today? Because the other tables were full and their usual associates were occupied.

"Self defense is one thing," Perceptor piped up. "But you can shoot and aim for non-lethal damage, can't you?"

"Say's the mech who's fired a gun maybe twice in the last month," Cliffjumper scoffed. "Look, unless you're a sniper shooting from really far away with lots of time to line up the shot, shooting to deliberately avoid fatal damage is fragging hard. You're not always going to have that much time to think in the middle of a firefight."

"Refresh my memory, how many Decepticons have we been able to kill in the last nine years again?" Beachcomber asked innocently.

"Not. The. Point."

"Actually, if you think about it," Brawn said thoughtfully, "when this is all said and done, this whole might not end up being such a bad thing."

Everyone stared at him.

"I am both insanely curious yet terrified to ask why," Hound said flatly.

"Oh, I see what he means!" Perceptor said excitedly. "Learning how the Decepticons managed to perfect the process of transferring and organic mind into a non-organic body would be an invaluable opportunity, especially taking into account what happened when we attempt as such with Spike and Autobot X. It would be fascinating to learn what they had to do to repeat the experiment without the adverse side effects!"

"Brain washing doesn't count as an adverse side effect?" Hound asked.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a byproduct of the transfer," Beachcomber said. "But to be honest, I can't help but wonder if altering their memories is what's letting them be as stable as they are. Spike _completely_ freaked out when he saw what happened, but Ampere, Datum, and Freerun aren't even aware that anything's changed at all. If so, then trying to, uh, 'rehabilitate' them might not be such a great idea. We might mentally and emotionally scar them for life, and it's not like we can put them back in their human bodies to fix them."

Hound raised a hand.

"Um, I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but I'm still waiting for the part where Brawn explains why this isn't 'such a bad thing.'"

Brawn spread his hands in an 'isn't it obvious gesture?' gesture.

"Oh come on, I can't be the only one thinking it. Lots of us have made friends with humans, but we know perfectly well that we'll be lucky to have fifty years with them. And while Spike's always had enough nerve and determination to match the best of us, the first couple of years he spent more time getting kidnapped than being useful."

"He got better!" Hound was quick to point out.

"Look," Brawn went on, "my point is that Chip, Raoul, and Astoria went from fleshy short lived and mostly useless Human bodies to stronger, faster, and just plain better Cybertronian ones that'll probably outlast the human race itself. Having to die first sucks, granted, but they've just gotten the ultimate upgrade."

Brawn looked around the table, expecting signs of acknowledgment, perhaps reluctant but unanimous. It took him an extra couple of seconds to realize that no one was paying the minibot any attention anymore since they were too busy looking at something directly behind him. With a jolt of his tanks and a surreal sense of precognition, Brawn had a horrible sinking feeling of what it was.

Slowly, he turned around in seat to find Tracks standing directly behind him.

"Well, don't stop on MY account," Tracks said with acidic brightness. "I want hear more about how it's such a good and wonderful thing that my best friend had been captured, tortured, and brainwashed to actively try and kill me whenever we meet. Or would you rather I left instead so you don't have to feel so awkward?"

Brawn sunk a bit in his chair. No one had anything to say.

"I see," Tracks said simply. "Then I will leave you good gentlemechs be."

The corvette sharply turned on his heel and left, radiating anger.

No one said anything for a long minute. Hound knocked back the dregs of his cube and watched the empty container dissipate into nothingness.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Hound said as he stood. The atmosphere had gotten a bit too heavy for his comfort.

Brawn was right, Hound admitted to himself as he left the rec room – the thought HAD occurred to him. It had occurred to every Autobot who ever looked at their human companion and remembered that no matter how hard they tried, how strong the friendship, how much they tried to forget, this friendship would _end_. That this _person_ would end, and nothing they did could stop it. Hound didn't doubt that many of them harbored a guilty sense of optimism that this situation with Ampere, Datum and Freerun could turn into a hope for 'saving' their human friends from the ravages of time.

But if Beachcomber was right, and that the price for an 'upgraded' body was a permanent alteration of memories…then Hound believed that the price was simply too high.

Every sentient being was defined by the choices they made. Programming and environment played their roles, sure, but it is the choices they made and how they chose to react to the forces outside their control that determined who they were. You could say that it is in the memories that a person comes to be made. How much can you twist those memories before you lost the person he once was and created an entirely new, independent being?

Raoul was the template and influence for Freerun. But that is not the same as Raoul _being_ Freerun.

Hound tried to imagine how he would feel if something like this happened to Mirage, if an evil force took him away and twisted him into a shadowy mockery of who he once was, probably with no hope of returning him to his old self again. It left him sickened. He couldn't even image what Tracks, Powerglide, or pits, even Prowl were going through right now.

All of a sudden Hound was overcome with a powerful need to be with Mirage right then, and he desperately wished the spy was back home and safe in Metroplex, not on a mission halfway around the globe who-knows-where.

oOoOoOo

'Who-knows-where' turned out to be South America, in the jungles of Honduras, clinging to the side of a massive plateau like structure locally known as a 'tepui.' Mirage was thinking of putting a motion in to have it renamed 'vertical hell' for accuracy's sake.

According to surveillance, the Decepticons had set up a small mining camp on top of the tepui within the last few weeks, though no one could say yet what they were excavating just yet. While the top of the structure was flat and bare of cover for anyone larger than a Cassette, it offered a fantastic lookout position and was all but impossible to storm due to the sheer, 400 foot high cliff walls. The Decepticons could come and go with ease. The primarily ground bound Autobots were stuck with spending several hours rock climbing the cliff face. Fortunately Mirage with his invisibility cloak didn't have to worry about being spotted by a Decepticon doing a fly by, making him the obvious choice for this mission.

Lucky, lucky him.

At long last Mirage was able to slowly haul himself over the edge and rest (no, he did NOT collapse!) before his limbs could fall off his body. But ever the professional, he was quickly up on his feet and moving with practiced silent ease.

The flat top of the tepui, exposed as it was to wind and elements, was sparse of vegetation - primarily of small flowering plants and lichen. Or moss. Same difference. And when Mirage calls it 'flat', he means it in the absolute loosest sense of the word. The ground was horribly uneven and difficult to walk, covered in rocks and oddly shaped boulders as if an abstract sculptor had thrown all his pieces on top of this Primus forsaken rock. Every step Mirage took threatened to betray him either with crushed vegetation or a tipped stone.

'_And Hound wonders why I am so adverse to nature walks.'_

Standing still, the first thing Mirage noticed were the turrets. There were a circle of them surrounding the camp, all pointing outwards. None of them veered towards him as he cautiously approached, so at least that was one threat he was safe from. The camp itself consisted of a handful of tent-like structures (all camouflaged from the top), most of which he presumed served as basic living quarters. The largest tarp was set up as a sort of half tent over a rather large hole in the ground that Scrapper was descending into now with a ladder.

Speaking of whom, almost everyone Mirage could see were Constructicons moving around with definate purpose. Odd though, considering they veered more toward the massive in their building projects. The second largest tarp was protecting a – Mirage did a double take. Unless his optics were fooling with him, he was seeing Long Haul operating a miniature processing apparatus. At least, he was assuming it was for processing, if the upturned chute on one end and the spout on the other end next to waiting empty cubes was any indication. Even as he watched, Long Haul was dumping a bucket of rockets in the chute, most of which glinted with a red light in the sun.

'_Surprise surprise, they're here to make energon cubes,' _Mirage thought as he took a few pictures._ 'Now let's see what mineral source they found that was so rich they had to set up camp all the way out here.'_

Going into the mine was admittedly dangerous, since the odds of being discovered via bumping into somebody because he didn't have the space to move out of the way rose exponentially. But he needed to see just how far this mining operation has gone.

The mine was wide enough for two to walk abreast, assuming those two weren't Seekers, with tracks already laid down with wheeled carts. As Mirage proceeded cautiously down the tunnels he could hear the sounds of heavy machinery and moving rocks echoing down the mine, and he once had to press his back against the wall to let a humming Scavanger with a cart filled to the brim with the same red glinting rocks he had seen before (which he dutifully photographed) pass him by. After 13 minutes, Mirage realized he could hear voices. He couldn't make out the words himself just yet, they were being garbled by the echo of the cavern, but he went ahead and started recording in hopes of someone being able to decipher it later. He approached carefully until he was able to make out the conversation.

"Okay, seriously, all I said was I'm picking up a huge spike in readings straight down here, better than anything I'm getting down the tunnels you've already dug out. You don't have to get all defensive."

"Madam, my illustrating how your 'suggestion' to reach this new spike is going to get everyone buried under nearly two tons of earth hardly qualifies as being defensive."

Mirage froze.

Scrapper was there, mildly arguing with the red and yellow femme he now knew may have once been Astoria Carlton-Ritz.

Asto – no, _Ampere_ was kneeling on the floor, one hand on her knee and the other tracing a circle with thin fingers. Her Imps were out, gingerly pricking at the dirt beneath her like a pair of birds for grubs. Scrapper stood over her, arms crossed and looking as annoyed as anyone wearing a mask can.

"It's a straight shot straight down," Ampere said firmly, still looking down. "Why can't you just drill?"

"For one, you can't give me an exact depth."

"It's between twenty five and thirty feet down. How much more precise do you want it?"

Scrapper rubbed his forehead. "Ampere, any mistakes could either result in total structural failure of the tunnels that'll bury us in tons of earth that'll leave us trapped and buried alive until someone can dig us out, assuming we don't get crushed to death or overheated from clogged intakes. Personally, I'd rather avoid that.

Ampere looked up at Scrapper in surprise. "But didn't Megatron already mine for Fire Rubies before? I don't remember hearing any problems from then."

Fire Rubies? Oh, that's right. When they first arrived, Mirage remembered that one of the Decepticons early raids had been on a Fire Ruby mine in Burma. He had been under the assumption it had literally been one of a kind, but obviously the Decepticons had stumbled upon an untapped vein.

Scrapper shook his head. "That mine had already been dug out by the local humans. Megatron just had to clear them out and take the rubies from them. They didn't have to dig for anything. This vein is raw, and when you're digging a mine you only get one chance to get it right. If we're going to keep up this zigzag spiderweb system you keep pointing in us going, then we're going to need measurements down to the _centimeter_ to pull it off."

Mirage was getting the impression this wasn't the first time Scrapper had to explain this to someone.

Ampere straightened up and dusted off her hands. "Then you're going to have to get them from someone else. These Imps may have been originally based on mining tools, but after being weaponized they're just not as precise detectors as they used to me. All I can do is sniff and point."

They talked a little more about the current path of the digging and how much further they go in that direction, but even though he continued to record, Mirage himself had stopped paying attention. All his attention was on Ampere herself. The way she held her hands, the inflections of her words, the casual stance, the smirk, the humor…

He couldn't see it. He couldn't recognize Astoria in any of it.

Disappointment was tempered with practical logic. He had spoken with the deceased heiress no more than a handful of times in the decade she had associated with Powerglide. He couldn't possibly know her well enough to pick out her unique mannerisms in a strangers body.

Mirage jerked to the side as Ampere came his way, just barely avoiding a brush. She passed the invisible spy as she headed for the exit, and Mirage was following her before he could even think about it. He followed her back up the tunnels, up the ladder, waited as she stopped to stretch and bask in the sun for a moment, and matched her steps as she made a beeline for the circular tent in the center of the camp. When Ampere lifted the flap to enter Mirage was able to slip in right behind her.

"I'm bored. Entertain me!" she chirped.

"Read a book file." Thundercracker deadpanned.

The blue Seeker was sitting at a field table set up with several monitoring devices, presumably the make shift security system for detecting approaching Autobots, his feet propped up on the table as he leaned back in his chair with his own book file.

"I don't want a book file," Ampere complained as she came around the table. "Everything you brought blows raspberries at me as it flies right over my head."

"Not my fault you left all your favorite movies and files sitting on top of your berth on the Nemesis."

"Okay, you know what: you're officially useless to me. I'm putting in a request for a sentry who won't make fun of me every time I'm nice enough to chat with him."

"You're the one who insists on dropping in here all the time," Thundercracker pointed out.

"That's because I've only got you for another two days before you switch out sentry duty, so I've gotta make the most of it. I mean, what if the next guy is even more boring than you?"

As mildly entertaining as this was, Mirage was starting to get impatient with the meaningless chatter. He couldn't leave until Ampere or Thundercracker did and opened the flap again, so if he was going to be stuck in this stupid tent in the meantime the least the Decepticons could do was do or say something usefully incriminating.

"Last I knew we were only going to be here for another couple of weeks." Thundercracker said as he scrolled down his page. "I don't think that's going to kill you."

Hello.

"Please. I'm never that lucky," Ampere said as she stood behind the seated Thundercracker. "Every time I think we're reaching the end of the vein I find another one deeper down. Seriously, I'm never getting off this stupid rock. You're lucky you're not stuck here watching six color coordination challenged perfectionists dig a hole in the ground."

"How much do you think is left?" Thundercracker asked, craning his head back to look up at Ampere upside down.

She shrugged. "In weight, I couldn't tell you. Personally, I can't see us getting out of here in less than a month, if this one hot spot I found is as good as the last one. Heck, it might be even better. Astrotrain's going to have to start coming on weekly runs instead just the every other week he's been doing."

"If he does, maybe we can shorten the sentry shifts to just one week too," Thundercracker mused as he lowered his head again. "He's supposed to escort the new guy in and the old guy back with each run anyway."

Ampere flicked the back of his head with a metallic _bink_. "Uh uh. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer with me."

"Yes but you're here for another month." Thundercracker reminded her with a smirk. "I get to leave in two days. You're just going to have to harass the next poor sap who replaces me."

'_So Astrotrain is coming in two days, most likely to pick up the energon cubes Long Haul is processing next door, as well as to bring in a new sentry and escort Thundercracker back to the Nemesis,'_ Mirage summarized in his head. _'While no one seems certain just how much further the ruby vein goes, it will take at least another month to excavate it using the most conservative estim-'_

Mirage's internal monologue came to a screeching halt when Ampere leaned down to thread her arms between Thundercrackers shoulder vents and his head to let her hands cross and dangle in front of his chest.

"No thanks. You're the only poor sap for me," she said with a bright smile.

"Good to know you think so highly of me," Thundercracker replied as he turned his head to look up at her again. But the light sarcasm was belied by the way his smirk softened into what Mirage could only describe as a fond smile.

The spy abruptly turned his head, no longer comfortable with watching this.

When Ampere abruptly decided Thundercracker needed to take a break and dragged the unresisting Seeker outside, Mirage made his escape. He stayed long enough to photograph the rest of the camp and the insides of the tents when he could before deciding he had gathered enough intel, staying clear of the tent that the Seeker and femme had dissapeared into. His task done, Mirage headed for the tepui edge and eased himself over for the long, arduous climb down.

This time, he was almost grateful for it. The physical difficulty and intense concentration it would require would keep him from having to think of what he had just seen happen between Ampere and Thundercracker would do to Powerglide.

oOoOoOo

Naturally, leaving the Decepticons alone with their mine was never going to be an option. No humans were being put into direct harm, true, but while the humans currently lacked the technology to access the ruby vein on top of the tepui the Decepticons were still stealing valuable resources that rightly belong to them. However, waiting a couple of days for Astrotrain to make his run and get the large pile of volatile energon cubes out of the way before they ran in guns blazing seem prudent, with the added bonus that, with a little bit of a stockpile to survive on, the Decepticons wouldn't be quite so desperate – and dangerous – on their inevitable next raid.

Just as naturally, since most of the Autobots couldn't fly, any plan of attack was going to rely heavily on the ones that could…with the exception of one.

"What do you MEAN I can't go?" Powerglide exclaimed in angry disbelief.

"I mean exactly that: I'm ordering you to remain here at Metroplex," Optimus repeated patiently.

"You said yourself we need fliers for this mission! Why aren't you using me?"

"Because Ampere is going to be fighting as well."

The red plane froze for a second at the name.

"W-well, then I HAVE to go!" Powerglide insisted. "She won't hurt me if she can help it, and maybe I'll have a chance to get through to her. Shouldn't we be taken every chance we can to get her back?"

"The missions priority has to be removing the Decepticons and leaving the mine for the humans," Optimus reminded him. "We all want to help Ampere, but she and the others have to be handled as a separate matter. If we let their rescue dominate everything we do, we'll just play right into Megatron's hand."

"Is it because you don't trust me?" Powerglide asked angrily, hands balling into fists. "Is this about that time with Soundwave?"

"No Powerglide," Optimus assured him. "I have noticed that you don't lash out as much or as violently as you used to after we lost Astoria…"

Powerglide flinched.

"…but now that we know what happened to her, Raoul and Chip, things have changed. On the battle field she will at least have to defend herself, and I doubt she will stand idly by and allow the Decepticons she now believes to be her comrades to be fired upon. It could create a situation where you would have to make a choice between attacking her or allowing another Autobot be injured. But it you can tell me that you will be able to handle that, I will allow you to join the mission."

Powerglides kneejerk reaction was to give a loud 'Of course!' because while Powerglide had his fair share of faults, his resolve had never been one of them. Yes, he could admit that Optimus had a fair reason to be concerned – if it was Freerun there instead Powerglide would probably bring up the exact same questions for Tracks. But he wasn't the Corvette, and he wasn't stupid, and frankly he was going to have to face her sooner or later, so why put it off?

"_Powerglide…" she said slowly, apologetically. "…I don't want to fight you. But next time we meet, I can't…"_

_She looked up at him with optics that were just a shade too shiny (or was that just the angle of the sun that made them look like that?)._

"…_I can't afford to hold back."_

Powerglide stalled.

_She stepped away, down off the rise and back towards the road. She stopped, paused, and half turned back to speak over her shoulder._

"_I know you probably won't believe me," she said. "But for what it's worth…I'm so sorry for your loss."_

Powerglides shoulders slumped in defeat.

He wasn't the sharpest of mechs, but he knew himself pretty well. Even if he had never found out who Ampere really was, he didn't think he would have been able to bring himself to hurt her, not after what they had shared. Not after he had seen that genuine sorrow in her optics for him, her enemy. Now that he knew the truth, it just made everything even worse. The thought of facing her across the battle field, the possibility that she would shoot to kill another Autobot…

He didn't think he'd be able to bring himself to stop her.

"Can you…can you at least let me know what happens?" Powerglide asked, not looking up. Optimus nodded in sad understanding.

"Of course."

oOoOoOo

Sentry duty was boring.

Sentry duty was even more boring when all you had to do was sit at one table and watch a bunch of monitors while making notes of any and all activities recorded, including that one stupid bird that kept flying by every couple of hours. A drone probably could've done this job. Pit, why have an extra guy here doing this anyway? Just get one of the Constructicons to do it, or Ampere when she wasn't sniffing the mines…

The deep intensive sulking was abruptly interrupted by a flash of sharp sunlight. Speak of the devil.

"Break time!" Ampere announced with an equally bright smile, holding the tent flap wide open and illuminated by the sun shining from behind her.

The sentry tried to glare at her, though the effect was slightly ruined by the hand he had to hold up while his optics adjusted to the intruding illumination.

"Mind letting the door close? It's hurting my optics."

"Oh don't be such a sparkling," Ampere chided. "We already live at the bottom of the ocean; you should be reveling at every bit of sunlight you get!"

As if to make a point, she was already pinning the tent flaps back to keep the entrance wide open.

He lowered his hand and asked "Ya here for a reason, or are you just bored again?"

"I already told you, we're taking a break!" she reminded him. The ever pushy femme hopped over and easily pulled him out of his seat. "You've been sitting in here ever since you got in yesterday. I just had to stage an intervention. Even Thundercracker would take a break every couple of hours – stepping away for ten minutes isn't going to kill anyone."

"Except that your ten minutes tend to turn into two hours," he pointed out.

"Ten minutes, two hours, same thing," she said breezily.

He would have protested that no, ten minutes and two hours were _not_ the same thing, or how irresponsible it was to leave your post unattended…except he really didn't give a slag either way.

"Well, since we're taking a 'ten minute' break anyway, mind showing me why you love that one movie so much? The one with the weird maze?"

"Imaginative story, fun characters, great music, what's not to love?"

"Great music?"

"_Dance magic dance! Dance magic dance!"_

"Riiiiight."

The pair left, the smaller mech being led easily away by the red femme, leaving the monitoring equipment to its beeping, passive scanning.

Slightly less than an hour later, the terminals buttons suddenly started depressing down on themselves in rapid succession and a new window was pulled up on the screen. A few clicks, and red lights switch to green as the grid was deactivated. A few more commands and one little virus that allowed him to bypass the password and voice command security locks, and the turrets were brought off line as well.

_::Security has been disabled.::_ Mirage reported over his comm.

_::Copy that. Were you able to identify the new sentry?::_

_::Negative, the tent was empty when I arrived. Should I determine his identity first?::_

_::No, it doesn't make a difference. Operation Sky Attack is a go.::_

Ampere shimmied left and right in time with the 80's music in time with the rock star turned goblin on the screen as her friend watched in dry amusement.

"C'mon, tell it doesn't just make you want to dance along!" she said with a spin.

"Ammy, I know dancing. That's not dancing. That's just swaying back in forth and shuffling your feet with a lot of style."

"Blasphemy! Shun the non believer…"

The Mazarati femme trailed off as she picked up a faint thundering sound that was steadily getting louder. The mech also turned at the sound as Ampere flicked the movie off. Was it thunder? No, the sky outside had been pure blue, and the rumbling noise was long and steady, like engines.

"Seekers?" he guessed. Ampere narrowed her optics at the tent roof.

"No."

She ran out and threw the flap aside just in time to catch Slingshot blast their excuse for a security center into a dramatic fireball.

"Where did they come from?" she exclaimed shrilly as she un-spaced her rifle.

"Is this a bad time to say 'I told you so?'" the former sentry snarked from behind.

It got even better when Silverbolt, Fireflight, and Air Raid swooped down low so Prowl, Tracks and Trailbreaker could jump off to fight on the ground.

The next few seconds were absolute chaos, at least from the Decepticons perspective. The Arielbots were flying all over the sky, taking potshots and moving too fast for anyone on the ground to get a good bead. The Constructicons were spilling out of the mine entrance like ants from a disturbed next and firing back like crazy, trying to keep moving because the exposed surface of the tepui, almost barren from the high winds that plagued it, offered almost no natural protection for beings of their size. Out-numbered, outgunned, out-maneuvered…and why weren't the Primus slagging turrets activating?

Ampere fired wildly behind her and ran for the nearest turret, only to be tripped up and fall flat on her face.

"Try surrendering, it'll be much better for your health," a sophisticated Towers accent suggested. Ampere turned her head and tried to glare at the unseen Autobot.

Both heads jerked around when they heard heavy metal colliding and snapping together as Devestator rose – the Autobots had not been quick enough to disable one of the Constructicons to take him out of the fight. Already the Arielbots were coming together for Superion to match him. Satisfied that the battle wouldn't last much longer, the invisible Mirage knelt down and pressed a knee into Ampere's back, keeping her on the ground.

"You'll thank me for this someday," he mouthed silently as he pulled one arm back to cuff it.

The next instant an energy bolt collided with the air and Mirage shimmered into space, spinning with the force of the blow and falling with a blackened, sparking shoulder and a cry.

"Wow, I can't believe that actually worked," Ampere's savior commented, right before he hurried over and kicked the gun out of the spy's hand.

"I'm going to try and fix the turrets!" she told him as she scrambled to her feet.

"Gotcha! I'll help the miner forty-niners!" he replied as he followed her, leaping over Mirages body like a gazelle and grabbing the spy's rifle along the way. Mirage tried to get back up to his feet, but jolted when he felt the pricks on his necks and the ensuing shock through his body.

"Like we were going to forget about you," Ampere said as she skipped off, leaving Mirage to collapse in an undignified heap. Thankfully, she hadn't had time to deactivate his comm.

_::Ampere is trying to reactivate the defenses. I've been paralyzed and can't move, I need assistance.::_

Prowl, the mech in command of the operation, immediately issued the orders. _::Trailbreaker, get Mirage out of the battle field now. Tracks, go after Ampere and keep her from activating the turrets. I'll handle the last Decepticon.::_

_::Yes sir!::_ the soldiers responded.

Ampere had already reached the turret, and Tracks quickly decided there wasn't enough time to simply drive around the grappling giants. Dropping to his Corvette mode Tracks drove right through their feet, twisting sharply and dodging around their feet and avoiding being crushed flat by mere inches in just seconds. He transformed into a run and brought his black ray gun up to bear to destroy the turret Ampere huddled by before she could reactivate it –

Until someone grabbed his gun arm with both of their own, forcing the blast to go wild.

"Get off of-!"

Tracks indignant exclamation died as he met infuriated red optics.

"Don't you DARE hurt Ammy!" Freerun warned ferociously, still hanging off of Tracks' arm.

Time stopped.

All motion, all noises, it all just disappeared into nothingness. The world shrank and tunneled sharply, blocking out everything until there was no longer any room left for anything except for this orange, black and white mech with the defiant optics and too much spark for his body. Not even Tracks could move anymore, there wasn't enough space left in the tiny universe.

Freerun's optics flickered, and slowly widened as he spied something behind the Autobot. As if he were moving through molasses Freerun dropped his arm and, with a single graceful bound, leapt impossibly far back even as his mouth opened in warning.

"BEHIND YOU!"

Time snapped back into place just in time for Tracks to throw himself to the side, right before Devestators foot crashed down with a teeth rattling shake right where he and Freerun had been standing a second earlier.

Tracks scrambled up and almost tripped over himself to get out from underfoot. Had he been less distracted, he might have taken a moment to appreciate how Spike probably felt most of the time. But he couldn't think of that because as he was trying to get away, Freerun ran right past him going back in.

"No, don't!" Tracks exclaimed thoughtlessly.

He twisted around and shot out a hand to grab the orange mech, but the smaller and swifter Freerun was too fast. Tracks was left grabbing at empty air.

Oblivious to the Corvettes plight, Freerun took a flying _leap_ and landed on all fours, cat like, on top of Devestators foot even as it was rising again. As Superion and Devestator continued to fight and grapple with each other, tearing up the earth with pounding feet, Freerun leapt again and climbed up the green and purple giants leg, his clever fingers finding every seam and grip as if he'd been climbing a certain rock face all his life. When the hand holds were too far apart, he wouldn't even hesitate before he threw himself higher or sideways to catch it, never stopping or slowing lest Devestators constantly moving parts crushed his digits, as fast and at ease as a monkey and mountain goat combined.

Tracks watched in open mouthed awe.

Up the leg, around the waist, across the back and looking remarkably like a spider while he was at it, and up onto Devestators shoulder, all the while wearing a grin of such pure exhilaration and daring Tracks could see it even from the ground. Now Freerun was holding on for dear life as the Combiners spun around each other, evidently oblivious of the bright orange hang on. Freerun hunkered down and waited, waited, waited…

There!

Devestator managed to grab Superion by both the shoulders and was trying to push him down. As soon as he had a solid grip Freerun took off like a sprinter from the starting lane, down the shoulder and along the arm connecting to Superion like a bridge. When he got to the elbow Superion managed to break Devestators hold and knock him back. As the giant Decepticons arms flew out wide, Freerun leapt off, his entire body twisting with the force of it, and smacked right onto the confused and mildly freaked out Superions stomach. He started to try and swipe the Decepticon off like he was a persistent fly, but Devestator was throwing another punch and Superion was suitably distracted.

Like a beetle Freerun crawled across Superions stomach to his relatively safer back and –

_:: What do you think you're doing!::_

Tracks abruptly snapped out of his trance. _::What?::_

_::Why are you just standing there?:: Prowl demanded _in uncharacteristic anger._ ::Trailbreaker is trying to reactivate Mirage and Ampere has me pinned down. Hurry and destroy the turrets while she's distracted!::_

_::But, I, Freerun's here!:: _Tracks blurted out.

Prowl hesitated for half a beat.

_::You can't let that distract you from the mission,:: _Prowl told him_. ::I can't get to the turrets and Trailbreaker can't leave Mirage. Now hurry!::_

_::I…yes sir.::_ Tracks stammered.

He transformed and took to flight, because the fastest way to take out the ring of turrets would be to blast them as he flew by, taking out the entire circle in less than a minute. In the air he circled around, but he couldn't stop himself from keeping one optic on the orange and black figure clinging to Superions back with one hand. With a triumphant grin he pulled something small and square out of his subspace and slapped it onto the Combiners back. Freerun snapped his head around suddenly, and Tracks realized that he had finally been spotted. With a cocky grin to the Corvette he gave him a mocking salute just before he launched himself backwards off Superions back, turning into a graceful back flip to land dramatically on the ground behind him.

Such was the plan anyway, until Suprion spun his upper body quickly around and accidently smacked Freerun full on in mid air with his elbow.

"NO!"

Freeruns body flew limply through the air, almost horizontal from the force of the blow, and Tracks was already banking right hard to intercept him before he –

PSEW! PSEW! PSEW!

Tracks pulled up sharply and barely avoided getting his from the laser fire from below, close enough he could feel his paint start to blister.

Ka-BOOM!

The magnetized grenade Freerun had planted exploded, drawing a shocked and pained cry from Superion. The damage was not life threatening, but it was distracting enough to give Devestator the opening he needed to take back the upper hand.

And Tracks watched as Freeruns body disappeared over the cliff edge.

In panic he tried to follow, but was forced off course again by another shot that came close to clipping his wing. Superion was also getting peppered an all sides and was swiftly losing his fight. On the ground Trailbreaker had thrown up a force field to protect himself and the still incapacitated Mirage from the turret blasts.

Hunkered down at the base of one turret, ironically the safest spot to hide from the fire, Prowl activated his comm. to Tracks.

_::Tracks, what are you waiting for? Hurry and destroy these turrets before Superion takes too much more damage!:: _he commanded_._

_::But, Freerun!:: _Tracks stammered.

_::I need you to focus on the battle, on the mission.:: _Prowl urged._ ::Freerun is irrelevant right now.::_

_::IRRELEVENT!::_ Tracks cried out in outrage, even as he flew in zig-zags to avoid the fire._ ::I just saw him get punched out by a Combiner and thrown off a 400 foot cliff! I have to find him!::_

Prowl felt his tanks freeze in horror. But in less than a second his battle computer provided the only tactical course of action.

_::No, you don't. Not right now. I will take care of the turrets myself. Trailbreaker can't repair Mirage and keep up his shields at the same time; I need you to help him get Mirage back on line. That is an ORDER, Tracks.::_

At that moment, Tracks wasn't in South America anymore. For a split second, he was back in New York City, trapped in an artificial ravine in a parking garage and watching as Rumble dragged Raoul away, to what he now knew to be his physical death.

He didn't consciously decide to disobey. It was more he chose not to lose what was left of his best friend again.

Without another word to Prowl, he flew right over the 2iC's head and dove over the cliff edge where he had seen Freerun fall.

Prowl hit the turret base in frustration. This was exactly why Optimus had forbid _Powerglide_ from this mission!

With a clicking, crashing sound Superion dissolved into his five separate parts, no longer about to maintain unity under the constant barrage from all sides. The Arielbots were in the sky before they could even hit the ground, circling around Devestator and firing at the behemoth while trying to avoid the turrets.

Prowl shook his head and cleared all thoughts of Tracks and his insubordination. There would be time for that later.

_::Slingshot, focus on the turrets, those need to be destroyed first. Trailbreaker, get Mirage as far from the battle field as you can on this plateau and see if you can't get him back on line. I'll cover you in case Ampere tries to stop you.::_

With a few shots from his acid-pellet rifle Prowl melted the turret cannon he crouched under and ran out from his cover. With or without Tracks, Prowl was not about to lose this battle or any of his Autobots.


End file.
